Wind's Harvest
by WillowDryad
Summary: The High King is left for dead, his beloved torn from his arms, but the winds of destruction carry an even graver threat to all of Narnia. Golden Age. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place after the events of "Contrite," which takes place after "If I Didn't Care," which takes place after "The Ciaramella." If you haven't read those stories yet, you can still read this one without being confused, but it will be better if you read those first.**

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter One

Long, booted strides as swift and silent as Orieus had taught him, Peter moved from shadow to shadow. Ten yards more. Five. One. He was in the doorway now, careful lest someone on the other side noticed him peering into the courtyard. He frowned, hearing heavy panting behind him.

"Stop breathing so loud," he hissed. "Do you want the whole Cair to know where I am?"

Babur wrinkled his broad nose and hissed back, "Maybe you'd rather have Bast helping you. I can call her."

The Tiger bared his fangs in a grin, knowing as well as Peter did that they'd both be in hot water if the Tiger's formidable twin sister caught them now.

"All right. All right. Just keep quiet." Peter peered out the doorway once more and then ducked back into the shadows. "You remember what to do."

"Leave it to me, Sire."

Babur wiped every trace of smugness off his whiskered face and padded out onto the grass towards the marble bench where Lady Linnet and her maid, Ada, sat enjoying the garden in the cool morning breeze. Ada, as always, was busy with her sewing. Peter had to stifle a laugh as the Tiger stole up next to her.

"Good morning, ladies."

The maid gave a little gasp and then put her pricked finger in her mouth. "You might give a bit of warning, Master Tiger, so please you."

Babur made a slight bow, though Peter could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

"I beg your pardon, Mistress Ada. I hope you are unhurt."

"She pricks her finger at least thrice a day, Babur," Linnet said, gray eyes twinkling, and Ada gave her a grudging smile.

"I fear I do, but, uh–" She made an apologetic little shrug. "It seems I can never quite get used to looking up from my needle and seeing an enormous Tiger smiling at me. Pardon my saying so, Master Tiger, and no offense meant."

Still Babur smirked. "None taken, Mistress Ada."

Linnet giggled and then her expression grew wary. "Where is the High King? He hasn't gotten out of bed, has he?"

Peter cringed. _Please, Linnet, don't be difficult now._

"He has been quite restless, My Lady," Babur told her, smoothly skirting her questions. "He says he is feeling very well now and sees no reason he cannot get up."

"Babur!" Linnet put her hands on her hips. "Besides the cuts and bruises _and_ the concussion, those Giants broke three of his ribs and cracked two more. It is a wonder his lung was not pierced. No doubt it will be if he does not take care until all of his injuries are healed." She sighed. "If only I had my ciaramella."

"You should have your new one any day now, lamb," Ada soothed.

"Indeed, My Lady," Babur said. "But until it arrives, we must find other ways to keep His Majesty from growing agitated. He particularly would like to be read to from that book his brother was reading yesterday. King Edmund is meeting with the council just now, but the High King believes he left the book here in the garden somewhere. Have either of you seen it?"

Linnet and Ada both shook their heads, and Babur sighed.

"And he particularly asked for that one. Do you think, Mistress Ada, that you might help me look for it?"

Ada at once put down her sewing and got to her feet. "Of course, Master Tiger."

"I'll help you look as well," Linnet said. "Then perhaps I should go read to him. It may help."

Babur ducked his head, hiding a grin. "I thank you, Lady Linnet. Mistress Ada and I will search over by those trees on the other side of the fountain. If you will check the bench over there by the doorway, that will be most helpful."

Before Ada could protest, Babur herded her away from her mistress. Peter sank further into the doorway as Linnet came towards him, her eyes on the ground, searching for the nonexistent book. When she was near enough, he pulled her into the shadows with him.

"Peter!"

"Shh, shh. Someone will hear you."

She glanced behind her to where Babur was leading Ada on a merry chase through the trees on the far side of the garden, and then she looked at Peter again, a touch of mischief behind her stern expression.

"What are you doing out of bed, My Lord? You know you're supposed to–"

"I'm supposed to not die of boredom. Bast and Susan will hardly even let me feed myself."

Linnet giggled. "Because you are a very naughty boy who will play with Giants."

Peter shuddered. "Not on purpose. But truly, Lady, I am practically well now. Surely a bit of fresh air and a walk will do me a world of good."

He gave her his most appealing grin, and she looked at him dubiously. His head was still bandaged and so were his ribs. He had a colorful collection of cuts and scrapes. His knuckles were a mottled yellow-green and purple from half healed bruises. No doubt she thought he looked thin and fragile and helpless. That was no way to impress a girl.

"Please, My Lady." He brought her hand to his lips and made his voice soft and intimate. "I've missed you, Linnet."

Again she tried to look stern, but he could see her soften. He could see the touch of pink that had come up in her cheeks.

"Just a walk?"

"Just a walk."

"Not a race or a sword fight or a joust?"

He chuckled. "Just a walk. I pledge it."

She gave him a coy look and took his arm. "Very well. But only for a little while. Let me just get Ada, and then–"

"No." He pressed his free hand over the one that held his arm. "She'll think she has to come with us, and then she'll have to tell Susan where we are. And Susan will make such a fuss, I'll never get to leave my bed again."

He tried his best imitation of the big-eyed look Lucy always used to get her own way, and Linnet shook her head in resignation.

"As you will, My Lord, but only for a few minutes. Besides, you know we'll be seen, and your sister will scold you right back into the Cair."

Peter held up one finger. "Ah, but there's where you are mistaken, Lady. Susan thinks I'm asleep, and Bast thinks Babur is watching over me for the morning. Besides, Susan is entertaining one of her suitors from Calormen, and Bast has gone to quietly intimidate him during his visit. I'll be back in bed before they even know I've been gone."

"But someone else will see us."

"Not the way we're going. Not if you're quick and quiet."

There was a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "And if we are caught?"

"I will protect you, Lady." He drew himself up, King, knight and warrior. "To the death."

She clung to him, suddenly doe-eyed and helpless. "My hero!"

He laughed and pulled her closer to his side. "Now come this way."

He took her down one of the back hallways, alongside the kitchens and out a little gate to a path that led through the waving grasses along the edge of the sand.

"Will not someone see us out in the open there?" she asked.

"No, no. Come along."

They skirted the beach and then darted between the two enormous rocks that jutted into the water and marked a sharp curve where the shore turned north. They ducked through a little opening barely wide enough to squeeze through, and then he stopped, smiling at Linnet's reaction.

"Oh," she breathed, squeezing his arm more tightly. "Oh, it is glorious."

It was only a little grotto the Merfolk sometimes used, a nearly circular hollow inside the rocks. The lapping waves had worn the stone into steps down near the water, going deeper and deeper still until they could no longer be seen. Sunlight peeped through the crevices in the rock above and reflected off the water, shimmering and dancing all around the grotto walls.

Peter would never have admitted it, but after so long on bed rest, he did feel rather shaky, so he sat on one of the large boulders there in the sand and pulled Linnet down next to him.

"All we need now is some music. It has been a long while since then, but I still remember how the Mermaids sang for our coronation. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, though Oreius says only the Stars are more gifted in music." Again he kissed her hand. "And you–"

Hearing something scrabbling at the back of the grotto, he leapt to his feet, drawing his dagger and pushing Linnet behind him. "Who's there?"

For a moment there was silence, and then again the sound of something or someone scrabbling over the rocks.

Peter tightened his grip on the dagger. "Show yourself."

The leathery flap of wings echoed in the grotto as a grumbling black Bat flew up towards the rock ceiling and out of one of the fissures. Peter exhaled and sat next to Linnet again.

"I suppose I should have made certain we were alone."

She smiled, loosening her tight grip on his hand. "It stands to reason we would not be the only ones wishing to spend time in such a lovely place."

"You like it?"

She nodded, eyes shining. "Does Narnia never run out of wonders, My Lord?"

"I have not found the end of them yet, Lady." He squeezed the hand he held. "And Aslan seems to always send me new ones."

Her long lashes swept to her cheeks, and even in the dusky half-light, he could see that she blushed.

"The– the Mermaids sang for you?"

"They did, My Lady. But that was nothing like the wondrous music you have played for me."

Her blush deepened. "I wish I could have played for you while you were recovering from these latest injuries. It would have made the time pass more quickly for you, and you would have been much better behaved."

"I wish you had allowed me to commission a new ciaramella for you sooner than you did." He squeezed her hand. "I had no idea they took so long to make."

"Only the good ones," she assured him.

"It is the finest, My Lady, I promise you. It will be good for you to play again."

She ducked her head a little. "I was not certain I would want to, My Lord."

"My Lady, Aslan has given you a great gift. It was not your music that was evil, only the evil use that was made of it."

"After what happened to you. I was afraid–"

She squeezed his hand once more, and his throat tightened with sudden emotion. She had been afraid he would die. It had been late summer, nearly nine months ago, when they had only really begun to be acquainted, but she had cared for him even then. How much more now–

"Linnet," he breathed, pulling her into his arms. "Sweet Linnet, you do love me, don't you?"

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her only answer a quick nod.

"Linnet," he urged. "Me, I mean. Just– just Peter."

Again she nodded, her face still hidden, and he pulled back from her, wanting to, _needing_ to see her eyes.

Those eyes were filled with tears, like the mist-gray sea in a relentless storm.

"Oh, Peter, you know how long I have loved you. Just you. Just for who you are. And no matter where you are or what you do, even if you were still a schoolboy in that Place Aslan brought you from, you would always be a King." She put one soft hand to his cheek. "You would always be my King."

He covered her hand with his and then turned his head, pressing his lips tenderly to her palm. "I hadn't meant to say this yet, My Lady. Linnet." His mouth went suddenly dry. "Linnet, I've had a lot of time to think since I came home from Ettinsmoor. Mostly I've thought how much I want you with me. Not just at the Cair, but– but always."

Her lips trembled into a soft smile, and a tear trickled down her cheek. "Peter."

"Linnet, I–"

He broke off at the sound of more scrabbling and got to his feet. Maybe now wasn't the time. Linnet looked a little puzzled, and he gave her a faint grin.

"Blasted Bat. None of them has a bit of tact."

That wasn't really true. Most of the Bats he'd met were quite polite. Still he'd had to say something.

Her eyes searched his, but she managed a bit of a smile, too. "I did not know that."

"Well," he admitted, "not all of them. Edmund and I met some once in a keep north of here–"

Again he broke off. The furtive little sounds he was hearing were definitely not made by Bats. Not unless they had suddenly grown hooves or taken to wearing boots.

"Stay here."

His dagger was a pitiful substitute for Rhindon, but he drew it all the same. Oreius was going to kill him for leaving his guard behind. And Linnet–

He crept back to her as silently as he was able. "Listen to me, My Lady. This may be nothing. But if there is someone out there, an enemy, do not come after me, do you understand?"

"Peter–"

"I mean it. Go down the steps and into the water. All you need do is dive down a few feet and swim into the sea. You'll come out in the cove. From there, the Merfolk will see you. They'll help you. Do you understand?"

She nodded swiftly and then grabbed both of his hands. "Please, My Lord, let us both swim away. You are not well enough to fight them, especially with nothing but a dagger."

He opened his mouth to protest, but he saw the fear in her eyes and the wisdom in her words. He had more than himself to consider here. Who would defend her if he were killed?

"Right then." With a comforting squeeze, he released her hands and gave her a wink. "I'll just have a look. We'd look pretty silly swimming out to sea if the only ones out there are Edmund and Mr. Tumnus."

She nodded. She knew as well as he did that anyone with friendly intentions would have some while ago made his presence known.

"Now, sharp's the word," he whispered. "If I tell you to go or if you hear a struggle out there, dive in and don't look back."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek and then crept towards the grotto's entrance. He could see nothing through the crevice but blue sky and golden sand. For a moment there was perfect silence, then he heard a faint and nasty laugh. Above him.

He looked up to see the Bat leering over him. "What are you–?"

A heavy blow to his head drove him to his knees. Another across his back pitched him face down on the rocks.

"Peter!" Linnet cried from somewhere in the whirling blackness above him, and he felt her pulling at him, tugging him by the wrists.

No. No, no, no. She wasn't supposed to come to him. She was supposed to vanish into the sea. Into safety.

He tried to say her name, tried to command her to do as she had been told. Instead he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Ribs. Broken again. _Aslan, make her go. _

A sly laugh came from somewhere behind him.

"Shall I help you, My Lady?" a strange voice said. "Surely that is too great a burden for so delicate a lady."

Peter heard Linnet's muffled cry as she was pulled away from him. He struggled to lift his head, fought to order whoever dared lay hands on her to release her at once. Instead someone took hold of his wrists, someone with large, bruising hands, and dragged him across the grotto floor.

"No!" Linnet shrieked. "No! Peter!"

Again he tried to answer, to struggle free, to fight, but he was half-choked now with blood, hardly able to draw breath for the knife-like pain in his ribs, hardly able to hear Linnet's cries anymore. Why had the motion stopped? Were their attackers gone?

He could not hold back a gasping groan as someone shoved him in the back. Then Linnet's screams were muffled by a sudden, cold rush of water, and arms and legs useless, he sank into the sea.

**Author's Note: Here I am again with more adventure, angst, fluff and other mayhem. Many, many, many thanks to Lady Alambiel for her brainstorming genius, pre-reading and all around greatness. Do let me know what you think and if you want more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Two

"They simply do not listen to me."

Lucy gave Duke Darreth a sympathetic pat on the arm as she sat beside him at the council table. He was right. Even though he had been a Duke for the past six years, even though he had been the one to arrange this conclave, none of the other island lords gathered here in Terebinthia showed anything but the most perfunctory interest in his concerns and suggestions. Perhaps it was because he did not possess the forceful personality of his late father and brother. Perhaps it was because he was only twenty-three. Of course, seeing that she and her brothers and sister had been ruling Narnia since she was eight and she was just twenty now, twenty-three seemed a perfectly capable age to her. Clearly, the nobility outside of Narnia did not agree. It seemed rather obvious that, if not for the summons sent out by the High King, none of them would have even bothered to attend this meeting.

"What am I doing wrong?"

She gave Darreth's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You just can't let them bully you. And you can't care whether or not they like how you run things here. As long as you try to do what's right, nothing else matters."

He looked over her shoulder, his expression wary, and she knew he was looking at Oreius.

"I suppose," Darreth said, "it doesn't hurt to have formidable friends as well."

Lucy gave the Centaur general a reproving glance, certain he'd been glowering again, and then smiled at the Duke. "We are your friends. Both of us. Narnia is your friend, too. And I am here to make sure all these lords remember it. My brothers in particular are not pleased to hear that you are the only one in the islands, including your King, who gives more than lip service to our edicts against slavery."

"I imagine they would not be," Darreth said.

He cringed slightly under Oreius's stony glare. It had been six years since he and his elder brother, Arren, had betrayed Peter and Edmund. Now Arren was long dead, and Darreth had redeemed himself in helping the boys escape from Calormene slavery. He and the Pevensies were all friends now, but Oreius was not so quick to forgive. Not so quick to trust. Not so quick to allow another of his sovereigns to come to Terebinthia unguarded.

Lucy was glad to have the Centaur with her even on a purely diplomatic mission. As Darreth had said, it was good to have formidable friends. If these island lords did not respect her simply for being Queen of Narnia, at least they would not easily forget the power she represented. Oreius would not allow it.

"Anything else we ought to discuss before everyone else arrives?" Lucy asked.

Darreth shrugged slightly. "I am not sure how you will get them to care about something that does not inconvenience them in the least."

Lucy's mouth tightened. "They'll be inconvenienced enough if Peter starts doubling and tripling their fines for allowing the slave trade to go on unchecked."

"They will merely say they are doing as best they can. As they always do."

She smiled tightly. "Then perhaps we should find others who can do better. I am certain there are those on the islands who would enjoy the privileges of rank and would give honest service in return."

Darreth glanced behind him towards the council chamber's closed doors. "You may not wish to mention any of that just yet, Your Majesty."

Lucy frowned. "Why not?"

"There is something brewing." Again Darreth glanced back at the doors, his voice lower than before. "I have heard rumors for some little while now, but had nothing more concrete. Now, well– Two of my servants have reported overhearing bits of conversation among the Lords staying here for the conclave. They speak of independence from Narnia and striking out on their own."

Lucy shook her head. "That's been the talk since Peter was first High King. When Narnia began demanding her rightful tribute again."

"This is different, My Lady." Darreth looked at Oreius as if to emphasize the truth of what he was saying. "They are saying now is the time because of what is happening in Narnia."

This time it was Lucy who looked at Oreius. The Centaur's impassive expression had not changed, but she knew him well enough to read concern in it.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What's happening in Narnia?"

"I– I'm not entirely certain, Your Majesty. But I may be able to find out if you will help me."

"Of course."

Darreth's hazel eyes lit, and he leaned confidentially closer. "If we were to have a bit of a falling out during the meeting, Your Majesty, if you were to make it clear that Narnia is not pleased with how I have governed here and that I could easily be replaced, and if, by your leave, I were to come close to threatening rebellion against you and the High King, perhaps they would take me into their confidence later on."

Lucy couldn't suppress a grin. Yes, this was serious business, but she did love playing politics. "Oh, let's do!"

Darreth looked over at Oreius. "And if your General will be good enough to look quite threatening when I dare contradict his Queen, it can only improve our chances."

Lucy laughed and clasped her hands together. "Oh, excellent. Yes, Oreius, you must."

The Centaur made a slight bow. "As you wish, My Queen."

"Now," she said, "I hear them in the passage. We ought to give them a little taste of what's to come."

Darreth's forehead wrinkled. "Your Majesty, I–"

"You will, My Lord Duke!" Lucy shoved back her chair and stood, her voice suddenly cold and imperious. "I am here in the name of the High King, and I say you will!"

Darreth blinked at her and then gave her a quick grin, making his voice as sharp and implacable as hers. "The High King, madam? The High King? By my life and my father's, the High King has no more right–"

He broke off and turned to see the island lords standing there in the now-open door, their eyes wide and uncertain. Lucy tossed her head and, lips pursed, sat down again. Darreth pasted on a smile.

"Come in, My Lords, and welcome. Queen Lucy and I were merely discussing a minor matter, nothing to concern the rest of you. Come in and sit down."

OOOOO

Lucy rolled over, unable to sleep. Not that the chamber Darreth had provided for her was anything but deliciously comfortable and very nearly rivaled her own at Cair Paravel, but she just couldn't relax. Not until she knew whether or not the little performance she and the Duke had put on earlier had had its desired effect. Not until she knew exactly what these lords had on their treacherous little minds and how it affected Narnia.

She rolled over again and buried her head under the coverlet. Then she froze. Someone was in the room. Her fingers tightened around the little dagger under her pillow and she held her breath. Someone was standing beside the bed, leaning over her, reaching towards her. Blade ready, she sprang up–

"Darreth!" She flung herself back against the pillows in relief. "What in all the worlds are you doing here? I might have cut your throat."

The Duke swallowed hard and ducked his head. "Forgive me, Queen Lucy. I realize it is unpardonable for me to come into your chamber in such a manner, but I had to speak to you without anyone knowing."

She sat up, still with the bedclothes clutched against her. "What happened? What have you found out?"

He glanced around the dark room and then leaned towards her. "It was as we hoped, Your Majesty. Seeing our little comedy played out during the conclave, some of the lords invited me to drink with them after tonight's banquet, since I was 'of like mind' with them."

Lucy grinned. "Perfect. And then?"

"And then they told me–"

With a near-silent gasp, Darreth shot up into the air and hovered there above her.

She frowned. "Put him down, Oreius."

From over the squirming Duke's shoulder, the Centaur general scowled at her. "Your royal brothers, My Queen, would not hesitate to break a man's neck for such an insult to your honor. In their place, I can do no less."

She scowled right back. How someone so large, and with iron-shod hooves to boot, managed to move so undetectably, she'd never know.

"Don't be silly, Oreius. This has nothing to do with my honor. Now put him down."

With a huff, the Centaur released the collar of Darreth's tunic, letting him clatter into a heap on the floor.

The Duke immediately scrambled to his feet, careful to stay a discreet three feet from Lucy's bedside. "Truly, sir, I meant no offense whatsoever to Her Majesty."

The General flicked his tail. "And how did you manage to get past me and the rest of her guard?"

Darreth paled. "Th-there is a passage from the library below into the sitting room of this chamber. I give you my word, I would never have considered using it if it were not an urgent matter of state."

The fury in Oreius's glare turned to wariness. "Go on."

Darreth drew a steadying breath. "It is as I told you, Queen Lucy. The island lords think now would be a good time to assert their independence from Narnia. They even have the support of a few of our Terebinthian Dukes, though not our King. Not yet. He finds it too much to his advantage to be under Narnia's protection."

Oreius snorted but said nothing.

"Why now?" Lucy asked.

"There is talk of rebellion in Narnia herself, Your Majesty," Darreth said. "I did not hear many details, to say the truth, only that someone is stirring up sedition in the northwest and that there have been some attacks here and there. Mostly isolated. Traders at some of the borders. Sailors. An isolated village here and there. There is not much to go on now, but they say it is going to worsen. It is then the island lords mean to take their stand."

"I have heard of these incidents in Narnia," Oreius said, his voice a grave rumble. "My soldiers have been unable to find anything to connect them to each other. King Edmund has his spies looking for information, too, as well as meeting with the council on the matter."

Lucy bit her lip, considering. "Should we go back home at once, Oreius? Or would we do better to stay here and see what else we can learn?"

"We do not wish to seem alarmed, My Queen. It might make these seditious lords suspect we are aware of their schemes. We should remain until the conclave is over. Your brothers and sister are well able to see to things in Cair Paravel." Oreius took firm hold of Darreth's arm. "And we will leave you to your rest."

Darreth blinked. "Of– of course, Your Majesty. Goodnight."

Oreius hurried him to the door.

"Darreth," Lucy called softly, and Oreius reluctantly released his hold.

"Your Majesty?" the Duke whispered.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, My Queen," Oreius said, only a bit of scolding in his rumbling voice, and then he escorted Darreth out, shutting the door firmly behind them.

With a giggle, Lucy nestled back into the downy bed. Darreth was so very nice. He was rather like Edmund, doing everything he could to be a man of honor once he had gotten back on the right path. Her giggle faded into a sigh. Thinking of Edmund made her think of home.

He would probably have all kinds of information by now on whatever was going on in Narnia. And, no matter if he was still bruised up from those Giants, Peter was probably helping him. And Susan– A grin came back to Lucy's lips. Susan was probably already planning a wedding even if Peter hadn't proposed to Linnet yet. Linnet was a dear and just perfect for Peter, even if it had taken him an eternity to realize it.

This time her sigh was one of drowsy bliss. She was sure Peter would propose to Linnet soon. And it would be nice to leave all the turmoil here in Terebinthia and get back home where there was only peace and happiness.

Peace and happiness.

**Author's Note: You can read about Darreth and his brother in my story "Refined by Fire." I'd love to know what you think of this new chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Three

Edmund studied the documents laid out before him on the great table in the council chamber. More killings. A little settlement in the mountains just outside of Ettinsmoor had been wiped out, man, woman and child, but there was no evidence that the Giants were responsible. On the eastern edge of his own great Woods, a man had carried out his trade, the last of a long line of woodcutters, until he and his family had been murdered, their home burned down around them as they slept. Farther south, a few miles from Archenland, a small copper mine had collapsed, killing eighteen men. The Dwarfs who examined the rubble found definite signs that someone had cut through strategic bits of timbering, rigging it so the tunnel would cave in while the miners were at work.

These were only the most recent incidents. In the past few weeks, they had become more frequent and more deadly. It wasn't just a traveling merchant or a couple of sailors anymore.

Edmund pressed his lips together, looking from one to another of the various creatures present. "And no one has seen anything? None of the Animals? The Dryads?"

Mr. Tumnus tugged at his red knitted scarf and looked faintly apologetic. "No, Your Majesty. It does seem rather odd, but the incidents happened in such remote places, we can find no one who has any information about them."

Pursing his lips, Edmund turned to the Raven perched on the chair back next to him. "Nothing from our spies either, Sallowpad?"

"Nothing, Sire," the Raven croaked. "The Dwarfs seemed rather close-lipped on the subject of the cave-in, and there were some Vultures near the remains of the woodcutter's hut who we think must have seen something, but they will only say the business of humans is none of theirs."

Edmund blew out his breath in frustration. "I suppose none of the rest of you have anything to add?"

He scanned the grim faces around the table. "Sir Elliot?"

The large white-and-tabby-striped Cat merely shook his head. "I fear not, King Edmund. If we had more information, particularly the reason behind these killings, then we could certainly formulate a strategy–"

"King Edmund! King Edmund!" A Swallow fluttered in through the open window and landed on the table in front of Edmund. "Please, King Edmund! I have a message! I have a message!"

Edmund managed a bit of a smile. Birds generally made excellent spies, but the young ones sometimes took more than their share of training before they were of any real use.

"What is it, Chip?"

"I have to tell it to you and nobody else, King Edmund. Just you. Please, King Edmund, just you."

The Swallow hopped and bobbed, fluttering his curved blue-black wings, and Edmund held out one finger for a makeshift perch. When Chip grasped it, Edmund excused himself and hurried into the little side room off the council chamber.

"Now," Edmund said, shutting the door, "what is–"

"Please, Sire, you must come at once. The High King! The High King! Some of the Merfolk have him down on the beach, near the big rocks at the north end of the cove. Purl and Tweedle are staying with him, but, please, hurry. He is as white as an egg and still as a nest when the fledglings have gone."

"Peter? What–" Edmund took two gulping breaths. "Quick as you can now, Chip, go tell Milos what you just told me. You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

"No, Sire. No one."

"Very well. Tell Milos to hurry."

The Swallow fluttered away, and Edmund raced out of the little room, stopping only to order the Cheetah on guard to make his excuses to the waiting members of the council. _Peter, you idiot, what have you done now? _There was something hollow and foreboding in the thud of Edmund's boots as he ran. Peter was supposed to be in bed, recovering from what those Giants had done to him. How could he be down at the beach? _White as an egg . . . still as a nest when the fledglings have gone. _Edmund's stomach knotted, his throat tightened, his lungs burned for lack of air. _Run. Run, don't let it be too late, run. Run!_

The stones of the castle corridors became the grass of the courtyard and then the sand of the beach. Empty. The beach was empty. _Run. Run. _What had Chip said? At the north end of the cove. Near the big rocks. _Run!_

At last he saw them in the shadow of the rocks, two Mermaids and a Merman bobbing in the water. Peter was in the middle of them, dragged halfway onto the beach, battered and bloodied. White. Still. _Oh, Peter._

The Swallows, Purl and Tweedle, Chip's nestmates, fluttered overhead.

"Hurry, King Edmund! Hurry! It's the High King! It's the High King!"

Edmund dropped to his knees in the sand and touched his fingers to Peter's cold cheek. There was a watery trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth. He wasn't breathing.

"Peter."

Edmund held one hand against his brother's throat, turning desperate eyes to the Merfolk when he felt no pulse. One of the Mermaids, the younger one with silvery locks that fell past her shimmering hips, held Peter's limp hand, eyes full of grief and pity. The other bowed her head as a tear slipped down her pale cheek.

The Merman frowned and pressed his long, white fingers over Peter's heart. "High King. High King."

At the stern, almost otherworldly command, Peter quivered and then coughed up more seawater, faintly red. Edmund's heart gave a painful lurch as it began to beat again, and then he saw Milos galloping along the beach towards them, chestnut hair and tail flying in the wind.

Chip darted along above. "We're coming, King Edmund! We're coming!"

"They're coming! They're coming, King Edmund! They're coming!" Purl and Tweedle peeped as they swooped and circled. "They're coming!"

"Hold on, brother mine," Edmund whispered, taking hold of Peter's free hand. "Help is here."

"He lives still?" the Centaur healer asked as he clattered to a stop beside them, concern in his dark eyes. "Can he be moved, Neros?"

The Swallows settled on Edmund's shoulders, bead-black eyes alert, all four of them taking in every word.

"With great care," the Merman replied, the words grim even in the low, almost-musical tone that was common to his people. "Even in the air, his breathing is wet and tinged red, and since we brought him up, he has not wakened. But we see nothing to show he should not be taken back to Cair Paravel. He needs tending by Landfolk, not us."

"I'll carry him," Edmund said, the Swallows fluttering back into the air as he leapt to his feet, but the Centaur held up one cautioning hand.

"Better allow me, My King. If his lung is pierced, he must be handled very carefully."

Edmund nodded. Peter's breathing was shallow and irregular. The healer would best know how to get him up to the Cair without hurting him more. As gently as he was able, Edmund lifted Peter, still dripping seawater, into the Centaur's arms. Then he bowed briefly to the Merfolk.

"Thank you for tending to him. I will need to speak to you later about what happened."

"Forgive us, Majesty," the Merman said, and there was regret on his almost-impassive face. "We know nothing but that we found him in the sea as you see him now and sent the Swallow to bring help." He inclined his head towards the Mermaid with the silvery locks. "Moana believes he fell into the water from our grotto, but we do not know that for certain. It is a great pity."

Again Edmund nodded, struggling to steady himself before he spoke again. "We are much in your debt. All of you."

The Merfolk bowed in graceful unison, and Edmund turned to the Centaur.

"We'll take him up the back path and up our private stairs to his quarters. We can't have this get out just now. Not with Susan entertaining a Calormene suitor."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Milos said. "But we must hurry."

Edmund led the way through the rocks and up to the Cair. About halfway there, he looked up at the Swallows who were escorting them.

"Chip, hurry on ahead and tell the High King's valet to prepare his bed. Tweedle, go and tell the Queen Susan she is needed in the High King's chamber. And Purl, see if you can find the Lady Linnet. Ask her to come, too."

"We will!" the Swallows chirped as they fluttered into the air. "We'll hurry! We'll hurry!"

"And keep quiet," Edmund reminded them. "No one must know what has happened. Do you understand?"

The three of them nodded and, without a peep, darted away.

Despite the urgency of the situation, the Centaur moved at an agonizingly slow pace. Peter never stirred, scarcely breathed, until they reached his quarters. His Faun valet hovered beside the turned-down bed, concern on his sharp features.

"Help me get these wet things off him," the healer ordered, and the valet at once began tugging Peter's sodden tunic.

Jostled, Peter coughed and made an almost-inaudible cry of pain, and again there was a trickle of red, this time thicker and darker, at the corner of his mouth.

"Careful!" Edmund snapped, and Milos put one hand on his shoulder.

"See to his boots," he said to the Faun. "And be easy."

The valet hurried to the end of the bed and began struggling with Peter's waterlogged bootlaces. Edmund did his best to help the Centaur ease first the tunic and then the shirt off Peter's broken body, but every touch seemed to agitate him more. Finally they were obliged to cut the garments away.

Edmund's heart wrenched at the sight of the black and purple bruises in his brother's death-white flesh. Peter's wheezing breaths hardly made his chest rise and fall, and he shivered pitifully as the healer examined him.

"How bad is it?" Edmund asked when the examination was over and Peter's battered head and ribs were deftly bandaged.

"Bad enough, Majesty," Milos said, his dark face grim as he and the valet eased Peter into a clean nightshirt and then covered him in a warmed blanket. "His earlier injuries have been aggravated. He is very likely concussed again. I cannot say his skull is not fractured. His ribs have gone from cracked to broken. He is most certainly bleeding inside. If he does not–"

Peter gasped, writhing as he struggled for breath, and Edmund at once gave his shoulder a soothing squeeze.

"Peter, you're all right. Just breathe. You're home. You're all right."

"Calmly now, Majesty," Milos intoned.

For a moment more, Peter wheezed, and then he turned his head and coughed, staining the white pillow with frothy red.

"Do something," Edmund pled as he lifted Peter's head and blotted his stained lips with a towel. Peter was drawing hard breaths now, his face twisted in agony, his cries low and weak and each one a dagger to Edmund's heart. "For pity's sake, there must be more you can do."

The door flew open and Susan swept in, her blue eyes round as she surveyed the scene. "Edmund, what happened? Tweedle said–"

"We don't know what happened, Su. I was in the council meeting when Chip came to tell me Peter was on the beach, hurt."

"Oh, Peter." Susan sat on the bed beside their older brother, cupping his bloodless cheek in her gentle hand, blue eyes full of worry. "How bad is it?"

Edmund glanced at Milos. "Very bad. All of the injuries he had from the Giants are worse now. He probably has a punctured lung. Maybe a fractured skull. I thought he was supposed to be up here on bed rest still." He spotted one of Peter's Tigers peering around Susan's skirts. "What happened, Bast? Why was he down at the beach? Why weren't you and Babur with him?"

The Tigress looked grave as she padded up to the bedside and more than a little angry. "His Majesty ordered me to attend the Queen Susan while she entertained Prince Zviad. Babur was to watch over the High King until my return. I do not know where Babur is now, My King. He always–"

"I am here, Sire."

Babur slunk into the room, ears and tail drooping, eyes downcast. He crept up to the bed and nudged Peter's limp hand with his nose. When there was no response, he let out a heavy breath.

"The fault of this is mine."

Bast glared at him, but no one said anything until he finally lifted his head.

"What happened?" Edmund asked, fighting to keep his voice steady when he wanted to explode. "Why did you leave your charge?"

"It was meant to be only for a moment, Sire. You know how restless the High King has been since he began to mend. I was–" The Tiger ducked his head again. "I was to distract Mistress Ada so he could walk out with the Lady Linnet for a short while. So I–"

"So you left him?" Edmund glanced at his brother as he lay on the bed struggling just to breathe. "Not only did you let him get up when you were specifically ordered to see he stayed in bed, you let him leave the Cair? Alone?"

"It seemed harmless enough, Sire. I thought–" Babur looked pleadingly at his flint-faced twin and then bowed his striped head. "I have no excuse, My Liege. It is all my fault."

Susan reached across Peter and touched Edmund's shoulder, eyes wide with fear. "Where's Linnet? Is she all right?"

They both looked at Babur.

"She was with Peter," Edmund said. "Where is she now?"

Feeling the slightest tug at his arm, he looked down to see Peter's pale fingers twisted into his sleeve.

"Lin't," he breathed. "Lin't."

He murmured something else, his breathing suddenly more rapid and labored than before.

"Shh," Susan soothed, stroking back his damp hair. "Just rest. It will be all right."

Edmund leaned down to him, taking his hand. "What happened, Peter? Where's Linnet?"

Again Peter muttered something unintelligible, struggling again to breathe, fighting to sit up.

"Rest now, Your Majesty," Milos said, moving closer. "You must lie still."

"Peter, please." Again Susan cupped Peter's cheek in one hand, her anxious eyes on Edmund. "Just rest."

Edmund held Peter where he was, dismayed at how little strength it took, but Peter somehow managed to grasp his wrist.

"Edmund," he rasped. "Lin't. Please."

Edmund gave Babur a piercing glare. "Where is she? Did she go with Peter?"

The Tiger's chin dropped to his furry chest. "The Lady Linnet is gone."

**Author's Note: I'd love to know what you think is going on and if you're enjoying the story. More to come!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Four

"Gone?" Edmund glared at the Tiger cringing at Peter's bedside. "The Lady Linnet is gone?"

Babur winced. "The Swallow Purl came looking for her. Purl told me what had happened to– to the High King." He glanced at Peter, pale, bloodied and bandaged, and then let his head sink lower on his chest. "I ran down to the grotto to see if the lady was there. I found nothing but signs of the struggle and the marks of hooves and boots. She is gone."

"Oh, Edmund, no," Susan sobbed, tears welling into her eyes. "No. Peter will never–"

"Ed," Peter gasped, somehow tightening his grip on Edmund's wrist. "Lin't tak-en." Again he struggled for breath. "Don't know– how many–"

"Majesty," the Centaur healer said, his voice slow and distinct, "you must not upset yourself. Lie still now."

Susan patted Peter's cheek. "Shhh. It's all right. It's all right. We'll send for Lucy to come home and bring the cordial."

"Can't– wait. Have to find–"

"Try to keep still," Edmund said, leaning closer to him. "Tell me everything you remember."

"Bat." Again Peter's hold grew tighter. "Watch-ing us. Must have– signaled. Didn't–"

He grimaced as he struggled for breath. Susan blotted the sweat from his forehead, silently pleading for Edmund to do something.

"Tell me," Edmund urged.

"Didn't see. Couldn't–"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, writhing and gritting his teeth, his grip so tight now, Edmund was afraid his wrist would break.

"Stop, Edmund," Susan pled. "You've got to stop."

Peter shook his head, not opening his eyes. "No. Listen." He exhaled rapidly, three or four times, and then his breathing steadied. "Didn't see. Heard one– one voice– maybe human– maybe not. Hooves." He panted again, and there was a fleck of red at the corner of his mouth. "Boots. Hit me– behind– Lin-net scream-ing– water– cold– dark."

"No more, King Edmund," Milos said, his dark face stern. "He cannot bear–"

"No," Peter groaned, panting as he fought to sit up. "Have to–"

"Peter!" Susan gasped, trying to help Edmund hold him still.

"Ed. Help– me. Help me find– her. Have to–"

"Peter." Edmund kept his voice low and calm. "Listen to me. Listen."

Abruptly, Peter's struggles stopped, and the only sound was the uneven rasp of his breathing.

"You know you can't go."

"Ed–"

"You _know_ you can't. What good will you do her if you kill yourself just getting out of bed?"

"Have to."

Again Peter tried to push himself up, but Edmund held him there with one hand and very little force.

"If you can't even get past me, Peter, what are you going to do against someone who means you harm?"

Peter merely looked at him, pleading, desperate. Then he sank back against the pillows, eyes closed, face lined with pain and despair. "She– she trusted– me. I let– let them– take her. Eddie, please . . . "

A single tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and was lost in his tousled hair. Its twin glimmered on their sister's cheek.

"I'll bring her back to you, Peter."

Peter didn't open his eyes, but he still gripped Edmund's wrist. "Can't– can't wait. Send patrols–"

"No, not soldiers."

"Ed–"

"They'll just kill her if we send troops. I will go."

Susan glanced at Edmund, clearly not liking this plan.

"Not– alone. Not– enough," Peter rasped. "Too many– of them."

"It'll be all right." Edmund put his free hand over the one now nearly crushing his wrist. "I'll take Philip and my Wolves. We'll be able to sneak up on whoever has Linnet without being seen."

The crushing grip tightened. "They'll kill– kill her."

Susan blotted Peter's face again, making soft, soothing noises to calm him, but her anxious eyes were once more on Edmund.

"No. Peter, listen to me." Again Edmund waited until his brother was still. "They took her for some reason. If they meant to kill her, they would have done it there in the grotto. So, unless we blunder up on them with the whole army, they'll keep her alive until they reach wherever they mean to take her."

Peter lay there staring at him, his raspy breathing slowing, too spent to struggle anymore. Edmund gently loosened his hold on his wrist.

"I'll find her, brother mine." He stood up, managing a slight, reassuring smile. "I'll bring her back."

Peter nodded rapidly. "Trust you– Ed." His eyes filled with tears. "Trust you."

Edmund felt his own throat tighten. Of course he did. And it was all Edmund needed to know. He touched the back of his hand to Peter's too-warm cheek.

"I'll bring her home."

"Edmund–" Susan began, but he interrupted with a kiss to her forehead.

"Look after him, Su."

He hurried out the door, but she was right behind him.

"Edmund, wait."

With an impatient scowl, he hurried her into the small sitting room across the corridor. "Not in public, Su. You know this can't get out. Not with that blasted Calormene here."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just–"

"I have to hurry. The longer I wait, the farther away they'll take Linnet. Look, just tell everyone that Peter, as usual, was overdoing things and Milos said he has to have complete bed rest and no visitors. Your Prince Fancypants didn't come here to see Peter anyway."

Susan pursed her lips. "I know that, Edmund. I'll take care of it. I'm just not sure you ought to be going after Linnet by yourself."

"I told you, I'm taking Phillip and the Greybacks. I think I'll take Chip, too. He'll be pretty handy for reconnaissance."

"Edmund," Susan huffed, "that's not–"

"I would like permission to accompany you, King Edmund."

Edmund and Susan both turned to see Babur standing at the door he had obviously nudged open.

"Why?" Glaring, Edmund pushed the door closed behind him. "So you can abandon your post again?"

"Edmund!" Susan's eyes flashed. "That was uncalled for."

Babur sat there, head up, shoulders back, unflinching, all soldier. "It is just, My Queen. His Majesty is always just."

For a moment more, Edmund still glared, and then he shook his head in disgust. "Your request is denied. Stay here. When Oreius gets back, maybe he can find you work in the armory. Cleaning gear or something."

The Tiger winced and then bowed his head. "As you say, Majesty."

When Edmund said nothing more, he excused himself and slunk out of the room.

"Edmund!" Susan began when he was gone, but again Edmund cut her off.

"I don't have time for this. Send for Lucy and Oreius to come back right away. I'll send you news when I have any."

She gave him a wounded look and then curtsied. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Su." He took her into his arms, kissing her cheek and then her forehead as she began to sob against him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't stay. I don't want to leave either of you."

She blinked hard and put on a smile. "I know. Linnet needs you now. I'll take care of Peter."

"And, please, Su." He held her at arm's length so he could see her eyes. "When Lucy gets home, both of you stay in the Cair and stay with your guards. I don't like whatever is going on in Narnia right now. Whether Peter's being left for dead and Linnet's abduction is part of it, I can't say, but I want you girls to be safe. Promise me."

He could see myriad questions in Susan's eyes, but she only nodded.

"You be safe, too." She brushed back the fringe of hair that fell over his forehead, her expression softening. "And remember to eat."

"Don't worry about that. I'm taking Philip, remember? He's worse than you about keeping me fed up."

That teased a faint smile out of her, and she hugged him one last time. "You'd better hurry."

"I'll be back, Su," he whispered as he released her.

He opened the door to the corridor, stepping back so she could go first. As she walked through, she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile just the tiniest bit brighter.

"I know you will. You promised Peter."

Before she could cross to Peter's chamber door, there was a sudden flutter of blue-black wings and a peeping little voice.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Edmund looked up at the circling Swallow. "Oh, Chip. Good. I need you to–"

"There you are!"

Edmund and Susan both turned to look down the corridor. A short, plump little woman in blue was bustling towards them. Babur slunk along behind her.

"Mistress Ada," Edmund began, looking pleadingly at Susan. "We, ah–"

Mistress Ada managed a slight curtsy. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesties both, and no disrespect meant, but I _will_ know what is going on and, if you will pardon me, at this very moment."

Susan, bless her, took the waiting woman's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Unfortunately, this only seemed to terrify the woman more.

"Where is she?" Mistress Ada demanded. "What have you done with my lamb? This– this Tiger will tell me nothing, and I know he was in on the plot to steal her away. Missing book indeed!"

Her attempt to look fierce was totally negated by the tears in her eyes.

Babur cleared his throat. "Forgive me, King Edmund, but I did not think it was my place–"

"Hear me, Mistress Ada," Edmund said, voice low, not deigning to look at the Tiger. "I have to go at once. You must have courage now, for your lady's sake."

Mistress Ada glanced, wide eyed, at Susan and then back at Edmund. "Please, My Lord–"

He leaned down to have his eyes level with hers and put a steadying hand on her shoulder, making his voice lower still. "Here it is, Mistress Ada. The High King took a walk with Lady Linnet down to the Merfolk's grotto at the beach. There they were attacked. He is badly injured."

"And she?" Mistress Ada gasped.

"We–" He glared at Babur. "We do not know. It seems she was taken by a company of no more than five or six. We do not know to what purpose, but I must see to getting her back before they get very far."

"Oh, my lady! My lamb!" Mistress Ada sobbed.

Susan pressed one of her own fine handkerchiefs into her hand. "Please, Mistress Ada, I know this is very difficult, but you must keep your voice down. We cannot have anyone know what has happened yet. Do you understand?"

The maid nodded, trying her best to stifle her sobs, and Susan slipped one arm around her.

"My brother has pledged to find her and bring her back," Susan soothed. "There is no one you can better rely on. We must trust Aslan to be with him and try not to worry."

Again Mistress Ada nodded, though she did not at all look convinced.

"Now, perhaps you would like to help me tend the High King? Since you are already aware of the situation, I would certainly be glad of the help."

"Y-yes, My Lady. It would be my honor."

Mistress Ada blotted her wet face, and Edmund smiled at his sister over the little woman's head. Su always knew how best to deal with people, and no doubt Mistress Ada would do best if her hands were kept busy..

"Chip," Edmund said, looking up, "if you will, go to my valet and have him pack my traveling gear and bring it down to the stables. And come down with him. I could use a good scout."

The Swallow had perched all this while on an empty iron sconce set in the wall, and now his feathers fluffed out and his round black eyes shone with pride.

"Me, King Edmund? Me?"

"Yes, but remember to keep quiet. Not a word now."

With a brief nod and a one-wing salute, Chip shot down the corridor and disappeared. Edmund's smile vanished as he turned to Babur.

"You are dismissed."

**Author's Note: So now what do you think? More to come!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Five

"King Edmund! King Edmund! They're coming! I got them! They're coming!"

Chip fluttered and swooped over Edmund's head as he finished securing his gear to Philip's saddle. The Horse blew out his breath but said nothing.

"I need them," Edmund said. "They're good trackers."

"They're irresponsible." Philip shook his bridle and huffed again. "If they weren't, they would already be at your side. As they are supposed to be."

"I was meeting with the council. I wasn't supposed to be through for another two or three hours," Edmund told him as he swung into the saddle. "Besides, I _ordered _them to go out to the training yard. You know they're a lot harder to handle when they've been cooped up."

Philip tossed his head, an equine shrug. "If you say so."

"They've grown up, Philip," Edmund assured him. "They've learned a lot since I first got them."

Before the Horse could respond with anymore than a dubious and rather sour glance, two large gray Wolves loped into the stable yard, tongues lolling. One of them had deep, fresh scratches on his nose.

"I told you you should have let me go first," the other one was saying.

"I had him! You bumped me just as I was about to run him off."

"You mean just as he was about to rip your head off."

The first Wolf touched his paw to his damaged nose and frowned. "He was not. Don't be such a pup."

"I am not a pup! _You're_ a pup!"

They jostled each other as they approached, and then, realizing they were being watched, gave each other a withering glare and trotted to Edmund's side.

"Grown older," Philip muttered. "Not grown up."

"You wanted to see us, King Edmund?" the one with the scratched nose said, panting up at him, yellow eyes eager.

"We did what you said," his twin reported with a doggy smile. "We inspected the training yard. Remus dug up a–"

"It wouldn't have been a problem if you'd kept your big nose out of it. I was about to–"

Romulus nudged his brother into silence, suddenly concerned. "Is something wrong, King Edmund?"

"Is something wrong?" Remus echoed, his face falling.

Edmund made his expression stern. The Wolves were always very sensitive to his moods. If they started feeling sorry for him now, he didn't know if he could hold up. The sudden shock of what had happened to Linnet, to Peter, was a bit too raw just yet. It didn't quite seem real. Better keep it that way for now.

"I need you both to listen to me very carefully," Edmund said. "You must not repeat what I am about to tell you. Not to anyone, do you understand?"

The Wolves nodded, a little bewildered.

"The High King and Lady Linnet were attacked a little while ago. He is badly hurt. The lady is nowhere to be found."

"We can find her." Remus glanced at his twin and then turned sympathetic eyes back on Edmund. "We can find anyone."

Romulus nodded. "We should hurry before the scent is gone."

"Good. We'll start at the rocks down at the end of the cove." Edmund patted Philip's neck. "Ready?"

With a nod, the Horse headed out of the courtyard, the Wolves scurrying out ahead of him and the Swallow soaring overhead. Edmund took one last look towards the Cair, towards his brother's balcony. He wasn't surprised to see Susan standing there, slender and pale, her black hair tousled by the wind. She lifted one white hand in farewell. He answered with a nod and the touch of his gloved fingers to his lips.

"Take care of him," he whispered."Aslan be with you both."

They were soon at the grotto. Edmund stayed out on the beach with Philip, not wanting to muddle any tracks or scents that might still be there. The Wolves snuffled the sand before they went in.

"King Peter and the lady were here," Romulus said. "Coming from the Cair. No one else today, I think."

"Here!" Remus yipped from the west side of the rocks, nearer the forest. "The others came from here!"

Romulus bolted to where his twin was still investigating, brow furrowed in concentration. "There was a Centaur."

"Two Centaurs," Remus corrected. "And a Faun or a Satyr."

Romulus examined the place his brother was sniffing. "Satyr."

Edmund urged Philip a little closer to them. "Is that all?"

"A Wolverine," Remus said triumphantly, and then he frowned. "And . . . something else."

Romulus snuffled beside him again. "We don't know this one, King Edmund."

Edmund dismounted, careful not to step in any of the tracks. The ones that had puzzled the Wolves were little claw marks, four sets, two on each side of a wide body that had slithered along the ground.

"Smells fishy." Remus looked at him, head tipped to one side. "A Snake with legs?"

Edmund nodded grimly. "Just about. A Lizard. A big one."

Philip whickered, showing the whites of his eyes. "It must have come up from Calormen. From the desert."

Again Edmund nodded. "Is that all? Peter said something about boots."

The Wolves moved closer to the rocks, closer to the entrance to the grotto, and then Romulus bristled.

"A man."

"Not a man," Remus insisted, growling low.

There were definite boot marks here. Human? Not human?

"So which is it?" Edmund asked.

The Wolves looked at each other and then looked rather ashamed.

"We're not sure yet," Romulus admitted. "Maybe we can figure it out if we look inside."

Edmund nodded towards the opening, and the Wolves scurried inside.

"Stay here, Philip," Edmund told the Horse. "Chip?"

The little Swallow swooped down and landed on Edmund's outstretched finger.

"Yes, King Edmund?"

"I want you to come in with me. Peter said there was a Bat watching them, and I want you to see if you can tell anything about where he came from or where he went."

Chip looked very solemn. "Of course."

Edmund carried him into the grotto and let him flutter up to the small opening in the ceiling. This had always been a place of mystery and wonder, a place where he and his family had spent hot summer evenings in the cool dimness, listening to the Merfolk sing and tell their ancient tales. Now–

"King Peter's blood," Romulus said, eyes mournful as he sniffed a dark stain on the rocks.

Remus traced the brownish smear to the water's edge. "They dragged him here. The one with boots did."

_And dumped him in. _Edmund felt fury run hot through his veins. _Left him for dead. And Linnet– _

"What about the lady?" he asked, voice taut.

"Her blood is here," Romulus said after more searching.

"Just a little," Remus offered, no doubt trying to be helpful. "Not very much at all."

Edmund studied the stains. One, little more than a smudge, was just higher than his shoulder, possibly from a blow to Linnet's face or head. She wasn't very tall. The other stain was perhaps waist high, perhaps from her hand or arm. Likely they would have bound her wrists. Obviously, they hadn't been overly gentle in doing so. Good thing Peter wasn't here. Just this would be enough to make him rush out and do something stupid. As usual.

"All right," he said, not allowing any trace of emotion into his voice. "Have you figured out who was wearing the boots? Was it a man or not?"

Romulus nodded. "Man."

"Not," Remus said at the same instant.

Edmund couldn't help a faint scowl. "If it's not, Remus, what is it?"

Remus considered another moment, snuffling the rocks near Linnet's blood, and then he grinned up at Edmund, tongue lolling in satisfaction. "Tree."

His brother shoved him, glaring. "Tree? Trees do not wear boots."

"This one does," Remus said, sneering. "Don't tell me you can't smell it, too."

"Tree?" Edmund dropped to one knee next to him. "Do you mean a Dryad? Or . . . what are the male ones? A Dru?"

The Wolf ducked his head as if he had been scolded. "I don't know, King Edmund. It smells a little like that."

"It smells more human," Romulus insisted.

"You're sure there wasn't a man and a Dru?"

Both Wolves shook their heads.

"Just one smell, King Edmund," Romulus said. "And from this place, it's with Lady Linnet all the time."

Remus nodded, for once agreeing with his brother.

"All right," Edmund said. "Two Centaurs, a Wolverine, a Satyr, a Lizard and this . . . man. Is that all?"

"No other scents," Romulus said. "No other tracks."

"Chip?" Edmund called. "Did you find anything up there?"

The Swallow immediately peered through the hole in the rock ceiling. "There was a Bat, King Edmund, but I can tell you little more than that. I would not be surprised, though, if the others were waiting on the bluff above the beach, waiting for his signal."

"All right. Now that we know what we're dealing with, we'd better see if we can figure out where they took Lady Linnet from here."

The Wolves hurried back out onto the beach, still sniffing and searching. Farther around the back side of the rocks they picked up the trail.

"Here, King Edmund!" Romulus said. "They took the lady this way. Into the forest."

Edmund leapt into the saddle. "Come on, Philip. Chip, get as high as you can. Let us know if you see anything."

The Swallow shot into the sky, and Edmund urged his Horse after the Wolves. There were more signs now they were in the wood and not on the rocks, tracks on the soft ground, crushed grass, torn leaves, the print of dainty velvet slippers.

_I'll find her and bring her home to you, Peter. I will._

They worked their way deeper and deeper into the wood, and then the Wolves stopped.

Edmund pulled up, too. "What is it?"

Philip looked back at him, clearly puzzled, but the twins merely sniffed the clearing, running in circles, yipping and whining.

"Romulus!" Edmund demanded when they gave him no answer. "Tell me."

Both Wolves sat on their haunches, heads down and tails drooping.

"The lady," Romulus said. "We can't smell her anymore."

Edmund leapt out of the saddle. There were no more slipper marks. They ended abruptly where the grass and flowers had been churned up. Clearly there had been a struggle.

"Do you smell any more blood?"

"No," Romulus said. "She must have been picked up and carried off."

"There is blood here," Remus said with a bit of a grin, and Edmund scowled at him.

"Whose?"

Remus nodded, tongue lolling again. "I think it belongs to that Lizard thing."

Romulus shoved him, and the grin vaished.

"Good," Edmund said tautly. "We'd better keep moving. There's a village on the other side of the forest. Perhaps someone there will have seen something."

He got back in the saddle and the pushed on. Another mile. Two. Then the Wolves stopped again.

"A stream, King Edmund," Romulus said. "They'll try to hide their trail here, like as not."

"We'll find them on the other side," Remus assured him. "It won't do them any good."

They all waded across and, true to his word, Remus picked up the scent about half a mile upstream.

"This way, King Edmund," he panted, yellow eyes gleaming. "This way."

Edmund leaned forward in the saddle, and Philip picked up his pace. Their quarry couldn't be too far ahead now.

"No!" Remus howled all of a sudden. "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!"

"What is it?" his brother asked.

"The boots. I can't find the tracks anymore."

With an oath, Edmund flung himself out of the saddle. He could see the clear print of the Centaurs' heavy hooves, the smaller split hooves of the Satyr, the Wolverine's paws and the low, wide trail of the Lizard, but there were no boot prints.

**Author's Note: Please tell me what you think so I'll know whether or not to keep on with the story. Lady Alambiel was gracious enough to let me borrow her Wolves, Romulus and Remus Greyback, who were introduced in her story **_**A Light in the Darkness: Refracted**_** and appear in several stories after that. I think they're precious and, even though they're a little older in this story, they're still not really grown up. Thanks for letting me borrow them, Lady A! –}-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Six

Edmund clutched Philip's reins more tightly as he stood watching the Greyback twins snuffling along the bank of the stream they had just crossed. Finally the Wolves came crawling back to him, ears and tails drooping.

"We can't find him anywhere," said Romulus. "The man."

"Tree," Remus insisted, and then he ducked his head at his brother's glare.

"Keep looking," Edmund said after another taut moment. "Man or Tree, I'm almost certain the one wearing boots has Lady Linnet."

They made their way upstream another mile or more, Edmund looking for any sign of Linnet, Philip trailing behind him, wary and watching, and little Chip flying overhead. The Wolves, sniffing and yipping and squabbling, were almost lost in the lush spring foliage.

Philip slowed to a stop with a disgusted snort. "One of them has wandered off again."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, scanning the trees. One of the Wolves was about a hundred yards ahead. The other was nowhere to be seen.

"Remus?"

The Wolf up ahead came bounding back to him. "Romulus, King Edmund."

"Where's Remus?"

Romulus frowned. "He was just ahead of me. I don't–"

"Over here!" Remus yipped. "King Edmund, over here!"

Edmund hurried in the direction of his voice and found the Wolf standing over a dark patch in the ground, growling faintly.

"What is it?"

"The Lizard thing, King Edmund. He is bleeding still, though less than before. He seems to have split off from the others."

Romulus came into the clearing, sniffing, too. "The Satyr is with him." He followed the trail another twenty yards or so and then came back. "But they separate there by the rocks."

"Leading us a merry chase no doubt," Edmund grumbled. "Romulus, go back to where you left the other tracks. I want to know if they're staying together."

"Yes, King Edmund."

Romulus darted into the forest, and Edmund knelt by the dark stain on the ground.

"Do you think it is a serious wound, My King?" the Horse asked.

"It doesn't seem so. I was just wondering how he might have gotten it."

Remus panted up at him, grinning. "Do you think it was the lady, King Edmund?"

There wasn't a trace of amusement in Edmund's expression. "I hope so."

"Just as you thought, King Edmund," Romulus announced as he loped back into sight. "The Wolverine and the two Centaurs have each gone a different way, but all of them are headed upstream."

"No sign of the boots though, right?"

Romulus dropped his head. "No, King Edmund."

The one with the boots, whatever he was, had at least at one point had Linnet. All the rest of his gang had come this way, leading them upstream. Perhaps–

Edmund shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked up into the sky. "Chip! This way, Chip! We're going back downstream!"

The little Swallow circled, a black speck against the sun, and then swooped low. "Did you find her? Lady Linnet? Did you find her?"

"Not yet," Edmund said. "Keep looking for anything that might help."

"I will! I will!"

Chip shot into the sky, this time heading the way they had come.

OOOOO

The first thing Linnet was aware of was the throbbing pain at the back of her head. The second was darkness. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, and realized that darkness was not completely unrelieved. Here and there, a little crack between the wooden boards admitted daylight. She more smelled than saw the straw she was lying on. Felt it, too, rough and prickly against her skin and in her clothes, poking her except where something else, a crate or a burlap sack, pressed against her.

Was she in a stable? No, stables did not typically bounce and sway. They did not usually jolt and rattle. She lay still another moment, listening. She could hear horses and, from time to time, the same sort of clatter, coming close and then fading away. A cart. She was in a covered cart on one of the main roads. It was too well traveled to be anything less.

She tried to sit up and realized her wrists and ankles were bound. How long had she been here. Long enough for her limbs to grow numb. By now, someone had to know she was missing. Someone would have to be looking for her. Peter would–

A sob tore through her and her eyes filled with tears. Peter. She could still see him there on the rocks, broken and bleeding, struggling to defend her even then, until he had been shoved into the sea and disappeared. _Peter. Peter._

Another sob wracked her, and she forced herself to be calm. It was hard enough to breathe when she was gagged so tightly that the cloth cut into the corners of her mouth. Panicking now would not help matters. _Oh, Peter . . ._

_Go into the water. _She remembered his urgent words, his eyes blue and intent, his usually gentle mouth pressed into a hard line. _Swim into the sea. The Merfolk will see you. They'll help you. _

Had they seen when Peter was dropped, defenseless, into their domain? Had they helped? She had no answers. Her captors certainly thought he was dead. It had made her blood burn to hear them jesting about it. Ada would have fainted to see her smash a sharp stone into that hideous Calormene Lizard's side, but by then she had had enough of his nasty insinuations and hissing laughter. She did not care that, just afterwards, someone had struck her in the back of the head. It had probably been the same one who had rolled Peter into the water and then helped the Satyr tie her hands, the one they called Argyrus.

Then they had dragged her outside to where the others were waiting, ignoring her tears and pleas, silencing her questions with this too-tight gag and then pushing her ahead of them into the forest. There were six of them it seemed. Besides the two who had been in the grotto, there was a Wolverine, sharp clawed and surly, the Lizard, and two nearly silent Centaurs. They were the ones who seemed most out of place. Centaurs? Peter always said the Centaurs were the most honorable of his subjects, the most loyal to Aslan, His prophets and seers. What were these two–

Abruptly, the jolting of the cart ceased.

"Are you enjoying your journey, My Lady?"

Linnet recoiled as her captor pushed back one corner of the heavy cloth covering the cart, the sudden brightness bringing tears to her eyes once more.

"What's this? Tears?" Argyrus mocked as he wiped them away with his calloused thumb. "And on so happy an occasion? Tsk, tsk, tsk."

She tried to pull away from him, but the barrel behind her head would not allow it. Instead she merely looked at him, wondering where he was taking her and who he was. _What_ he was. She had seen a number of strange creatures since she had come to Narnia, but she had never seen one like him.

At first, judging by his boots, breeches and tunic, she had thought him human, but now she was sure he was not, at least not entirely. He was tall, nearly as tall as Peter, but slender as a willow branch and brown as a nut tree. His hair, wild and thick as brambles in a hedge, came down to his shoulders, his features were as fine and comely as those of the Dryads she had seen, and his eyes– His eyes were silver.

He stood smirking at her, defying her to unravel his origins or his motives. As if she could say anything with this gag in her mouth. After a moment, he reached towards her again, taking her chin not too roughly in his hand.

"I always heard you were beautiful. Pity you are both destined elsewhere."

Puzzled, she struggled to speak, but he only began pulling the heavy cloth back over her, warily glancing up at the empty sky.

"Best keep still, My Lady. If you draw attention to yourself, I cannot answer for your safety." He gave her an insolent wink. "Rest easy. We have far to go."

An instant later, she was again in darkness and the cart jolted forward once more.

OOOOO

"Here! He's here, King Edmund! Here! Here!"

Edmund leaned forward in the saddle as Philip leapt a fallen tree and pulled up next to the Greyback twins. The Wolves were grinning and panting as they looked up at him.

"Right here," Romulus said, nosing one of a number of bootprints in the muddy bank of the stream.

"Deeper than before," Remus added, and Edmund dismounted, examining the tracks.

"He's carrying her. Must be. Come on."

The mud gave way to grass and then leaves and forest undergrowth and then the hard-packed dirt of a well-traveled path. Edmund figured they must have gone two or three miles by this time, the tracks twisting and turning through the trees, sometimes west, sometimes east, but always, eventually, north. Still, whoever had Linnet was hours ahead now and the sun was beginning to sink below the treetops. Finally Edmund looked up again.

"Do you see anything, Chip?"

"A road, King Edmund!" the Swallow peeped. "There's a road! This way!"

He soared ahead, and Romulus nodded. "He went that way, King Edmund."

"I'll find him!"

Remus dashed into the brush with Romulus right after him.

"You know what that means, My King," Philip said, more than a little regret in his tone.

Edmund nodded, his lips pressed together, and then he managed a slight smile. "They're good trackers. They'll find something. They have to."

Philip merely looked at him, dark eyes sympathetic, and said nothing more. Edmund hurried him along, following the boisterous Wolves until they reached the edge of the forest and the road Chip had seen. Romulus and Remus were running back and forth, noses to the ground, whining disconsolately.

"He was here," Remus said, ears and tail drooping. "He was here, see?"

Edmund saw nothing but tufts of wiry grass, but he knew how sensitive a Wolf's nose was and did not in the least doubt it was true.

"And now?"

Romulus slunk over to him, looking no higher than his boots. "Now he is not."

"You lost him on the road," Philip said, even his mild tone an accusation, and the Wolves gave twin sighs.

"He is just gone," Romulus said, nosing the ground. "His scent stops here."

Philip snorted derisively, and Edmund shook his head.

"I don't think they lost the scent," he said, looking up and down the road that stretched before them. "I think our prey never stepped on the road."

The Wolves sat up, looking at each other, baffled.

"But he didn't go back," Remus insisted. "We would have smelled him."

"We would have," Romulus said.

Edmund dropped to one knee, studying the rutted road. "I don't think he went back. Look at the tracks here, horses and mules, wagons and carts and carriages. If he isn't walking anymore, he wouldn't leave a trail, am I right?"

Romulus nodded, looking rather relieved. "No one can track something that isn't touching the ground."

Philip huffed but kept silent.

"Which way, King Edmund?" Chip swooped down to land on Edmund's shoulder. "Which way now?"

"Did you see anything from where you were?"

The Swallow fluffed his feathers. "There were a pair of Leopards heading north along with five or six Deer and a family of Badgers. A man was driving a wagon south, but it was empty, I could tell for certain, and he was alone except for his oxen. I saw nothing else."

Edmund let out a heavy breath. This was one of the busiest roads in Narnia, leading south to the pass into Archenland and north to Ettinsmoor. _Which way? Aslan, which way?_

Receiving no answer, he climbed back into the saddle. "There's a fresh stream and good campground about a mile ahead. We might as well stop there before it's too dark to see."

**Author's Note: Hmmm . . . what IS going on here? Do let me know what you think if you want more.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Seven

"And that's all?"

Lucy looked expectantly at Darreth, but he merely looked apologetic.

"The other lords, the ones who think we should separate from Narnia's rule, they've told me nothing more. They seem to be waiting for something."

"Waiting?" she asked, glancing at the Centaur who stood stone faced beside her with his brawny arms crossed over his chest. "Waiting for what?"

Darreth could only shrug. "They do not say, Queen Lucy. It seems likely they are waiting to see what happens in Narnia before they make any overt move."

Oreius narrowed his eyes, taking one intimidating step towards Darreth. "And you are certain these rebellious lords are not in league with those making mischief in Narnia?"

Lucy gave the Terebinthian Duke just the tiniest bit of an encouraging smile, and the uneasiness left his expression.

"No, General," he said, looking the Centaur in the face. "I cannot say I am certain, but I think it most likely. I know these men. They have no interest in Narnia except as it affects our own land. That does not mean they would hesitate even a moment to use Narnia's misfortunes to gain an advantage for themselves."

"No doubt." Oreius replied. "Then I suppose there is little we can do but wait."

"True." Darreth gave Lucy only the slightest of hopeful smiles. "But I trust your time here will not be unpleasant for all that. I thought perhaps– Uh, perhaps–" Reddening under Oreius's glare, he made a swift bow. "Perhaps I should tend to some pressing matters until luncheon is served. Until then, Your Majesty. General."

He scurried out of the room, and Lucy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"That was very bad of you, Oreius."

The Centaur merely lifted one eyebrow. "How is that, My Queen? I neither said nor did anything untoward."

"And neither did he."

Oreius merely snorted, and now Lucy did laugh.

"At least he didn't sneak into my room again."

"A flagrant breech of security, not to mention protocol and decorum, is hardly a laughing matter, Your Majesty."

She sighed. "I know. I know. But everything is all right. You worry too much, especially about Lord Darreth. He would never hurt anyone."

The General's expression darkened. "After what happened to your brothers, My Queen, I am not as certain of that as you."

"That was years ago," she reminded him, taking his arm as she got up from the council table. "Since then–"

"My Lady! My Lady!" One of the castle pages, a lanky little boy of perhaps twelve, blustered into the room, his brown eyes enormous. "Please, My Lady, you must come to the courtyard. My Lord the Duke says you must come at once!"

Lucy gave Oreius a worried glance, and then they both hurried out into the corridor and down the wide steps that led out into the courtyard. There was a knot of ten or fifteen of Darreth's people, maids and grooms and the like, huddled around the Duke who knelt by something lying there in the grass.

"Darreth, what is it?"

Lucy put one hand to her mouth, faltering as she drew close enough to see. A glorious golden creature, half lion and half eagle, lay on his side fighting for breath, limp wings still outspread.

"My– My Queen," the Gryphon gasped. "Urgent. The High King–"

Lucy dropped to her knees beside Darreth, putting one soothing hand on the heaving side. "Shh, take a moment, Areli. Catch your breath."

"The High King?" Oreius urged. "What is it? What is your message?"

"The High King was–" Again the Gryphon gasped. "Attacked. Gravely injured. Flew two days to get– cordial. Urgent you–"

He convulsed, golden eyes rolling back in his head, and Lucy looked up at Oreius.

"My cordial. Now."

Oreius galloped back into the castle.

"You'll be all right, Areli," Lucy soothed, trying to make her expression reassuring and not panicked. "Hold on just another moment."

The Gryphon blinked at her, for a moment looking confused, and then he seemed to see her clearly again. "My Queen, you–" His beak opened wide as he again struggled to breathe. "Lady Linnet– Urgent. High King–"

The golden body convulsed once more and then was still.

"No," Lucy breathed, taking two handfuls of thick fur. "No, no, no."

Darreth looked at her, brow wrinkled. "What happened to him? I do not see any sign of injury."

"I don't know," she mourned. "He's been our swiftest messenger ever since we came to Cair Paravel. Even the Hawks can't fly so far and so fast. But now–"

"I have seen it before, My Queen."

Startled, Lucy looked up to see Oreius standing over her, the useless vial of cordial gleaming in his large hand.

"The journey was too much for him,. If he left Narnia but two days ago, he must have flown the whole while at top speed and without rest." There was pity in the Centaur's grave face. "I do not doubt his heart merely burst."

"Oh, Oreius." Tears filled Lucy's eyes. "No. No."

"For the sake of the High King, he did all he could to reach us and the cordial. And now–"

"And now he cannot take the cordial back." Lucy scrambled to her feet and took the vial from him. "We have to get home. Oreius, order the crew to prepare to set sail at once."

Darreth nodded in sympathy. "I will see your Gryphon is buried with all due respect."

"Thank you." She reached down to lay her hand on Areli's feathered head. "Aslan bring you safe to His country, faithful friend," she whispered, and then she stood straight again. "I'm sorry, Darreth, but we cannot wait even for the burial. We must go right now."

The Duke was immediately beside her. "Your Majesty–"

"I won't bother with my things. You can send them on later. Right now we have to get the Splendor Hyaline–"

"Queen Lucy–"

"–stocked for the return journey. Round up the crew from wherever they're idling. I think we–"

"Lucy!"

She finally stopped and looked at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes stinging with tears. "I don't have time to stop, Darreth. Peter might already–"

"I know." He took her hand, looking into her eyes as he did, his words low and calm. "I know. You cannot spare a moment. I just thought it might be faster if we commandeer one of the merchant ships that is already prepared to set sail. You and your General can leave right away. In the next few minutes. Your crew can bring your ship back to Narnia later."

She nodded, smiling faintly, and then threw herself into his arms, wanting to weep with relief. "That's brilliant. Oh, thank you. Thank you! Can you see to it for us?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. In fact–" He glanced at Oreius and then looked hopefully at Lucy. "I thought I might go along with you. If there's any way I can be of help, to your brothers I mean, it is certainly the least I could do."

"Yes!" She gave him a tight hug and then darted away. "I'll just grab a few things I need. Oreius, help him make arrangements about the ship."

As she scurried up to the chamber she had been using, she didn't have time to worry about what Oreius thought about their plans. Darreth would best know how to handle Terebinthian merchants and their crews and get her back to Peter as quickly as possible. Gravely injured, Areli had said. And what had he meant to tell them about Linnet? Poor thing, she and Susan must be frantic by now. And Edmund.

A certain cold satisfaction filtered into her. Aslan have mercy on whomever had done this to Peter, for Edmund surely would not. Whether he took the entire army or hunted them down alone, there would be no escape for them.

"Aslan," she murmured as she stuffed some traveling clothes and other necessaries into a bag, "be with my brothers. Don't let Peter die before I can get home, and please, please, don't let Edmund do anything stupid trying to track down whoever did this to him. Dear Aslan, give him strength and wisdom. And please help Susan and Linnet not to worry too much." She blinked hard. "And me, too."

Areli had left Cair Paravel two days ago. Winds with them, it would be another ten at least before they got home. By then, Peter could be–

No, she wouldn't think that. Not now. Not yet. He had been alive when the Gryphon left Narnia. He would be alive when Lucy got back. He had to be.

OOOOO

Linnet's eyes fluttered open. She had fallen asleep again, lulled by the heat and the rocking motion of the cart, but it was cooler now, dark from what little she could tell, and the cart had stopped. Night again? How long had it been? She didn't know. It seemed she had never done anything but lie in this musty straw, limbs aching, throat dry, stomach cramped with hunger, and remember her last sight of Peter as he disappeared into the sea.

_Aslan_, she begged for what must be the thousandth time, _don't let him be dead. Please, don't let him be dead. Let him come for me. Help me find a way out. Please, Aslan, please._

The gag muffled her gasp when the heavy cloth covering the cart was pulled aside. Argyrus was smiling down on her, his silver eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight.

"Good evening, My Lady. I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner."

Her empty stomach growled in answer, and he chuckled.

"Shall I take that as a yes? Truly, I am honored."

He made an elegant bow and then nodded to someone she could not see. Brawny arms reached over the side of the cart and lifted her out. It was one of the Centaurs, the one whose tail and hair and beard were an inky black along with his smoldering eyes. He set her down on a blanket next to the fire, and she realized they were in a cave of some sort. The other Centaur stood glaring down at her. He was blue eyed and fair haired, but his look of disdain was a mirror of the first's.

She saw no sign of the Lizard, but the Satyr squatted by the fire, stirring something in a bubbling pot while the Wolverine finished ripping the skin from a brace of rabbits. Whatever they were cooking, she wasn't sure she could keep it down.

Argyrus dropped to one knee beside her. "It will be quite difficult for you to eat, My Lady, with this gag still on. If you will promise to keep quiet, I will be happy to remove it."

She considered refusal, but there was a bucket of water not three feet away from her. Oh, just a taste–

She nodded swiftly, and he removed the cloth.

Immediately, she licked her dry lips. "Water. Please."

"As you will, My Lady." He picked up the dipper and held it to her mouth. "Ah, ah, ah, not too quickly. No use having it all back again."

She gulped it down anyway, half-sobbing with relief, and then he set down the dipper.

"Now, as delighted as I would be to feed you myself, dear lady, I feel even you are not used to such pampering. If I unbind your hands, do not make me regret doing so, am I understood?"

He smiled as he said it, but the warning was not lost on her. Again she nodded.

He took out a long, wicked-looking blade and cut the ropes at her wrists and ankles. Almost immediately, the numbness turned to painful tingling as the blood rushed back into her hands and feet. She managed to sit up, her eyes fixed on the half-Dru, but she said nothing.

"Very good," he said. "And very wise. You will find that, if you cooperate, things need not be so bad for you. We have no desire to harm you, Valiant Queen Lucy."

**Author's Note: Ummmm . . . who? I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Eight

Edmund took another bite of broiled trout, hardly tasting it. He had eaten little else the past few days, the path running as near the stream as it did. He thought it wise to save the food in his pack for when nothing else was available. Of course, the others fended for themselves as was natural. Philip ate the lush spring grass. Chip ate berries and seeds and the occasional grasshopper. Romulus and Remus seemed especially delighted to bring back their prey, raw and bloody, for his approval. Even after being with Edmund so long, the Wolves still didn't quite understand why he found this unappetizing. Not that he had much of an appetite anyway.

Philip had to urge him to eat, telling him he'd be of no use to Linnet or anyone else if he were too weak to stand. Edmund knew he was right, but no matter what he put in his mouth, it all tasted the same. He choked it down anyway.

"Doesn't it taste good?" Remus asked, looking up from his half-eaten rabbit, teeth gleaming in the gathering darkness.

"Of course it doesn't." Romulus swallowed down one last bite of weasel and jerked his head towards the crackling fire. "He burnt it."

"I thought he likes it burnt," Remus replied, and he wriggled over and laid his head on Edmund's leg, looking up at him with wondering yellow eyes. "Don't you like your food burnt, King Edmund?"

In spite of himself, Edmund managed a faint smile. How long ago it seemed since he had sent them out to the training yard while he was in council, and Remus, as Edmund had found out only later, had dug up a bad-tempered Badger and gotten a scratched nose as payment. In so many ways, they were still the green pups Peter had assigned to guard him. _Oh, Peter– _

"Yes."

The word came out in a half-strangled croak, and he reached over to stroke Remus's head, sinking his fingers into the thick fur. He'd lost track of the days. Lost track of Linnet. By some miracle, Romulus had picked up the trail of the Satyr and that strange Calormene Lizard two days back, but then they had lost it again. And who knew if those two were headed towards or away from whichever of them had Linnet? All Edmund knew to do now was continue forward in the direction of her abductors' last footmarks. North. North where? And was she still alive? Was Peter?

He flung the remaining half of his trout onto the fire, pushed a startled Remus away, and stalked over to the stream. He stuck his hands into the water and then brought them up to splash his face. Susan would be horrified at his scraggly stubble of beard. He rarely took time to shave these days, and if she saw him, she would no doubt declare him in need of a haircut as well as a shave.

_Oh, Su, are you all right? Are you taking care of him? Did Lucy come home?_

No, she couldn't have gotten home yet. If she had, she would have given Peter the cordial, and Peter would be here with him now. There was no doubt of that.

He scrubbed his face and neck with both hands, the icy water bringing clarity to his thoughts. The only thing he could do for Peter at this point was find Linnet and bring her back. If it wasn't already too late. If she wasn't–

He whirled when something nudged his shoulder, and then he exhaled heavily. "Philip."

The Horse practically glared at him. "A pack of Werewolves could be at your heels, and you'd never know it."

Edmund pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and frowned. "What do you want?"

"Those two." Philip tossed his head back towards the fire. "Your Wolves. They've wandered off again."

Edmund pressed his lips together to keep from swearing. "Where did they–"

"King Edmund!" Romulus padded out of the dark trees, skittish and glancing backwards. "You ought to–"

"Where have you been?" Edmund snapped. "Where's Remus?"

Again the Wolf looked back into the darkness. "Whatever it is that's been following us the past two days is out there now. We were trying to see what it is."

"And?"

Romulus ducked his head. "I do not know. It smells . . . wrong."

Philip snorted but said nothing.

Edmund narrowed his eyes, scanning the trees. "Which way?"

Before the Wolf could reply, there was a yelp from out of the darkness.

"Remus!"

Romulus bolted into the forest, and Edmund started after him. Before either of them could go more than a step or two, there was a rustling in the underbrush. Into the circle of firelight stepped a large Tiger. He was carrying a Wolf by the scruff of the neck, as if he were carrying a puppy.

"Remus!"

Romulus ran to his brother, nudging him with his nose when the Tiger dropped him in a curled up little heap on the ground. Remus scrambled, shamefaced, to his feet as the Tiger made a slight bow.

"King Edmund."

Edmund pressed his lips into a hard line. "Babur."

Again the Tiger bowed.

"What are you doing here?" Edmund demanded. "I ordered you to stay at the Cair."

"I want to help find the lady. I am useless back at the Cair."

"Any soldier who cannot obey orders is useless anywhere." Eyes hard, Edmund jerked his chin towards the south. "Go back. Now."

"My King."

Edmund glared at Philip. "What?"

"Perhaps," the Horse said mildly, "you should find out how things are at home, how the High King fares, before you send away someone who knows."

Edmund let out a heavy breath and then nodded, finally turning back to the Tiger. "How is Peter?"

Babur looked at the ground. "Not well, Your Majesty. I left two days after you did. At that time, because the High King would not lie still and allow his body to heal, the healer Milos was forced to give him something to make him sleep. The Queen Susan was very concerned that it might do him more harm than good and insisted on watching over him every moment."

"And Lucy?"

"They sent a Gryphon to Terebinthia, to fetch back the cordial. Whether he has returned, I do not know."

"Do you bring any other news from Cair Paravel?"

The Tiger did not lift his head. "No, Majesty."

"Very well. You are dismissed. Report back to Cair Paravel, and report to General Oreius the moment he returns. I'm sure he'll be very interested in your recent attention to duty."

For a moment, Babur was silent. Then he finally looked up.

"Forgive me, King Edmund, but there is more you should know."

Edmund crossed his arms over his chest. "And that is?"

"I think I know where they are taking the Lady Linnet."

Philip's eyes widened, and the two Wolves looked at each other.

"We haven't been able to track them," Romulus said. "I don't see how you–"

"I rolled in those feverfew bushes we passed two days ago." Babur told him. "You must have noticed them. Their scent is quite strong."

Remus grinned. "That's what seemed so out of place. They don't grow here, and I–"

"Hush." Edmund narrowed his eyes at the Tiger. "How could you know where they're taking Linnet? What have you found?"

"I started where you did, at the grotto. I followed their tracks and yours to the road where they split up. You were following the others, so I decided to go with the Wolverine and the two Centaurs until I lost them in the rocks in the foothills early on."

"That doesn't tell us anything we don't already know," Edmund said. "I don't doubt they had a meeting place arranged before they separated. They're probably back together again by now."

"Probably," Babur said. "But if we know where they are going, we can catch up."

Philip nodded. "It would be quicker than tracking."

"So if you lost them, how do you know where they're going?" Edmund asked, his expression more than a little cold.

"I heard them talking," Babur said, a sudden grimness in his tone. "I was not close, and I did not hear much of what they said. Just a name."

Edmund looked at him warily. "A name?"

The Tiger nodded. "Talfryn."

Edmund gasped, feeling as if he had been gut punched. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. _They were taking Linnet to Talfryn? Oh, Aslan, no, don't let it be so. Talfryn? _

Philip shifted on his hooves and tossed his head, the whites of his eyes clearly visible. "Are you certain you heard right?"

Again Babur nodded. "I fear so."

Remus pressed against Edmund's legs, comforting or unsettled, Edmund wasn't certain, but he put one hand on the Wolf's head anyway, grounding himself. "Chip?"

The little Swallow's head popped out from under his wing, and he looked down owlishly from the branch he was perched on. "Yes, King Edmund?"

"I need you to–" Edmund swallowed, trying to be better in control of his voice. "I need you to take a message for me. I know it's already dark, so I won't ask you to go far, just to the Bats I have stationed at the outpost about a mile west of us." He rummaged in his pack with unsteady hands, looking for parchment, quill and ink. "Give one of them this message to take to the Queen Susan as quickly as he is able. Then you come back here. We head north at first light."

OOOOO

Susan leaned against the marble railing of Peter's balcony, looking out over the sea as if she could see all the way to Terebinthia. Why hadn't Areli come back yet? The Gryphon had already had time enough and two or three times over to fly to Lucy and bring the cordial back. Where was he?

She blotted her face and neck with her handkerchief. It was spring, but the day was uncommonly warm, and she wished for a cool breeze to blow in from across the water. For Peter's sake.

She walked back into the room, towards the wide bed of the High King, watching Peter lying there, his sleep heavy and unnatural. "How is he?"

From her chair next to the bed, Mistress Ada smiled, dark eyes full of pity. "The same, My Lady, poor poppet." She patted Peter's forehead with a damp cloth. "Though perhaps just a shade warmer than before."

Susan touched his cheek and then nodded. "I will send for some cold water from the well. I don't know of much else we can do until the cordial gets here."

She pushed the tangled golden hair away from her brother's face, but he did not respond. She hadn't expected him to. She hated that the Centaur healer Milos had found it necessary to sedate him, but she had agreed there was nothing else they could do. Peter had refused to rest, had refused to stay quiet, and Milos had feared he would make his injuries worse, bleeding inside or puncturing his lung with a broken rib.

_I understand_, she wanted to tell him, _but you can't help her like this. You have to be patient._

Ada was looking at her with anxious eyes, and Susan went around to the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. "We will hear something. It must be soon."

The waiting woman nodded with an only half-convincing smile. They both knew Susan had no answers, only the certainty that Edmund would not quit until he either found Linnet or died trying. She could not, would not, indulge the increasing fear that it would be the latter. Where was that Gryphon?

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

She started at the piping little voice. Peter stirred a little, and, shushing him, she leapt to her feet. The Swallow Purl fluttered in through the open balcony doors, clutching a piece of parchment.

"Queen Susan! I have a message! A message from King Edmund! Hurry! Hurry!"

Susan took it from her, and Purl settled on her shoulder, black eyes bright and eager.

"King Edmund sent Chip to give it to a Bat who brought it to me. He said you must read it at once."

Susan already had it open, recognizing Edmund's neat, unornamented handwriting at once. Tears sprang to her eyes as they scanned the terse message. _No. No, no, no. Oh, Aslan, no._

"Please, My Lady." Ada, too, was on her feet, her plump hands clasped over her heart. "Please, has he found my lamb? Has he found my Lady Linnet?"

Susan put a soothing hand on the older woman's shoulder. "You mustn't upset yourself, Mistress Ada. There's nothing known for certain yet."

"Please," Ada begged, tears spilling down her face. "Whatever news there is, I must know something."

Susan sat down on the side of the bed and drew Ada down next to her, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I will read it to you. 'Su, I promised I'd let you know when I found out anything. Until now, there's been nothing. Tell Bast that Babur is with us now. He says they're taking Linnet to Talfryn. I'll do what I can to get her back before they get her there. Otherwise, we have no option but full-out war. Don't let this get out, but have Oreius come back to the Cair as soon as you can. Take care of Peter. Pray Aslan will be with us. Love, Ed.'"

Ada blinked at her, clearly more frightened by the tremor in Susan's voice than the message itself. "What– what does it mean? Where is Talfryn? What's there?"

Susan crushed the parchment in her fist. "Talfryn isn't a place. He is the King of the Giants."

**Author's Note: Dun dun DUUUUUUUN!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Nine

Peter struggled through the tunnel, dark and narrow, stifling hot. It had taken him he didn't know how long to get this far, but he knew he was at last drawing near the stronghold.

Talfryn. They had taken Linnet to Talfryn, King of the Giants, north to his castle Harfang. It made Peter's stomach roil to think of her there, kept prisoner, leered at with beady eyes and pawed over by thick-fingered hands, unable to escape. He wouldn't let himself think further than that. It would only drive him to madness.

He had been more than disgusted when Talfryn had some months earlier sent messengers to Cair Paravel offering an alliance between Narnia and Harfang. There would be peace between their two peoples, the raids, the killings and the burnings would stop, the villages near the Ettin border would be left strictly alone, and there would even be generous terms of trade between the kingdoms. The Giants asked only the smallest concession in return, a mere token mentioned in an addendum to the agreement.

They wanted one of the Queens.

Reading it, Peter had wanted to wipe the Giants off the face of the earth then and there. Edmund had been furious as well, hot to ride north at once, but they had decided a polite refusal was a more prudent response. They had agreed, too, that they wouldn't mention that particular addendum to the girls. Of course their sisters had found out. Knowing he and Edmund weren't telling them the whole story, Susan had used charm and a particularly fascinating silver earring to get the information from the Magpie scribe who took down Narnia's official response.

She had been frigidly indignant when she heard what the Giants wanted, more angry that her brothers had kept it from her than at the actual request. Lucy had wanted them to send her to Harfang so she could tell Talfryn in person what she thought of him and his addendum. But Peter had merely sent his refusal, making sure it was couched in all the coldly formal terms used between nations when tensions were high and peace was fragile.

But he knew what Talfryn wanted, what he really wanted. The Harfang Giants were more clever than the usual mountain variety, but even they were inbred, growing less intelligent with each generation. An infusion of human blood, royal blood, would give them status and superiority over the other Giant clans. It would give Talfryn what the Harfang kings had long wanted, power over all Ettinsmoor.

Peter mopped his face with his sweat-drenched sleeve, struggling to breathe the air that grew hotter and drier with his every step. It had been a long time since they had taken Linnet, long enough for his wounds to heal, long enough for him to go after her himself. He had admitted it to no one, but his body still ached everywhere. Each breath seared his lungs with pain. His head often throbbed and spun, turning the tunnel's darkness even blacker, forcing him to cling to wall or floor until the spell had passed and he could move on.

A tunnel, he had been told, a tunnel through the mountains. Oreius had gone ahead to scout the best way into Ettinsmoor and the exact location of the tunnel, but Peter had eventually found it himself. It was one of the many the giants used, coming from Harfang, but he would not follow it to its beginning, a wide corridor with steps up to their royal armory. Instead, he crouched and crawled and dragged himself through a smaller earthenware pipe off the main shaft. He hadn't been told what it was for, only that it came up under the kitchen. Judging from the heat, that part was correct. Judging from the stench, he decided the Giants must use it as a drain for disposing of waste.

He didn't care. He would do this a hundred times and more to save his beloved from the horrors she had been taken to. And he would do it alone. He wished Oreius was still with him, but that couldn't be helped now. Besides, there was no use bringing an army against this mountain stronghold, and the Giants would not negotiate. They had what they wanted.

Perhaps, but not for long.

It seemed a second eternity before he reached his objective. He was under the opening in the drain, hardly daring to breathe for fear he'd be noticed, but the kitchen was buzzing with activity, the cook thumping bowls and pots and pans as she worked and screeching at her helpers to do this or that and be quick about it. Finally, it was done and they all scurried out with the King's supper.

Peter waited a long moment and then another, but the kitchen was quiet. He drew his dagger and smashed the hilt into the side of the pipe. It took several blows, but it finally cracked and then broke. He waited again and, hearing nothing, he struck the earthenware again, finally making an opening large enough for him to wriggle through.

He was inside some sort of cupboard full of buckets and rags and scrub brushes, and he carefully pushed his way through them. As soon as he was out, he put them all back in place. No use advertising his presence or his escape route. He looked around for cover. No doubt the cook and her helpers would be back in a moment or two. He had to get out of the kitchen and to wherever Linnet was being kept.

He blotted the sweat from his face once more. Was it just the kitchen, or was the whole castle a furnace? He had to get Linnet out. He had to get her out and get her home. But he had to find her first. He made his way to the door he suspected would lead to the corridor and opened it just a crack.

He saw no one, but he could hear the sounds of merrymaking coming from the door at the other end of the hallway. The Giants were feasting. He wouldn't think too much about what might be on the menu. At least he knew it wouldn't be Linnet. But would she be at the feast? Perhaps Talfryn insisted on displaying her to his subjects as his Queen. The mere idea made Peter's stomach heave, but perhaps she would be there. Could he somehow catch her attention and not be noticed by anyone else? He had to try.

The door was large and heavy, but he managed to pull it open wide enough to squeeze through. Seeing his way was still clear, he darted across the corridor and behind a velvet hanging, not daring to breathe when the cook and her helpers came clattering out of the great hall. In another moment, they disappeared into the kitchen. A moment after that, Peter crept up to the Giants' banqueting room, listening at the still open door.

"A Centaur said that to you?" one of them said, his rumbling voice indignant. "And what did you say?"

"Nothin'," another replied. "He galloped off and it was two days later I saw him again."

"And what did you say then?"

"Nothin'."

"Nothin'?" the first voice demanded.

"Said nothin' 'cause he wouldn't 'a heard it nohow," the second replied with a considerable amount of disdain. "Lyin' as he was at the bottom of a pie."

"Go on," scoffed the other.

"Plain truth." The second Giant's voice held a mournful touch of regret. "But that's the first and last time I'll eat that sort of pie."

"Why's that?"

"Too tough. Them Narnian Generals is just too tough."

"Out, you rogue!" his companion roared, pounding the table as the company howled with laughter.

Peter clenched his dagger as his stomach heaved. _Oreius. Oh, Aslan, not Oreius. _He squeezed his eyes shut, hating their laughter, their evil, slow-witted sniggering. He couldn't think of this now. Now was no time to grieve. He had to get out. Get Linnet and get out.

Taking advantage of the uproar, he shot around the doorway and behind another hanging, this one a coarse tapestry clumsily worked, its only saving grace being its size. It made a perfect hiding place. He worked his stealthy way behind it until he reached a place where the stitches were mislaid and part of the backing was left uncovered. He could see through it now, though it was still hard to see much.

There must have been two or three dozen Giants at the long table, snatching up food with their greasy fingers and slobbering into their ale. Most of them leaned on their elbows, using their sleeves to wipe gravy from their lips and eating with their mouths open, their teeth sharp and stained. One had fallen asleep with his head in his plate, and one of the others had crowned him with a circlet of half-gnawed rib bones.

In the middle of the company, his chair higher than the rest, was Talfryn, their King, stuffing roast something into his slash of a mouth, his tiny eyes glittering with merriment. And beside him–

Linnet.

Peter's breath came hard now, tearing and burning his lungs, and he pressed one hand over his mouth to cover the sound. Linnet. Linnet!

She sat in a chair next to the Giant King, one much smaller than his but still too large for her. Peter could just see her head and shoulders over the edge of the table. Before her was a silver platter piled with what Talfryn must have considered the choicest of delicacies, but she hadn't touched it. She merely sat, looking down at her folded hands, saying nothing.

She wore a velvet gown, red as blood and covered with seed pearls and gold threadwork, but it fit her awkwardly, as if she were a doll dressed with inept hands. Her honey-colored hair fell loose and lank around her colorless face. Her lips were white and parched. And her eyes, her sweet expressive eyes were empty, merely dull gray orbs ringed with black.

Peter's blood turned even hotter inside him as Talfryn turned to leer at her.

"Why do you not eat, My Queen?" he rumbled. "The Unicorn told me he came from your homeland. He should be a particular favorite of yours, tender as he is."

Linnet did not respond, and he seized her by the hair, forcing her to look at him.

"Answer me!"

"Let her go!"

Peter shoved the tapestry aside and the great hall fell silent. Then the Giants began to grin at each other. Their King laughed aloud.

"Well, well, if it is not our brother, the High King Peter. Come, sit with us."

"Let her go," Peter hissed, then he turned to Linnet and held out his hand. "Come now. Let's go home."

She only looked at him. "You let them. You let them take me. You left me here and never came. I waited. I wept. I begged you to come for me. And now–" She shook her head almost imperceptibly, her voice as empty and hopeless as her eyes. "I can never go home."

"No," he pled. "I'll take you home. If I have to kill them all, I'll take you home."

He tightened his hold on his dagger and clutched nothing but air. How–

"What will you do, Little King?" Talfryn roared as his men howled with laughter. "How will you fight now? And how will you undo what's been done?"

Peter looked from him to Linnet and back again. "What–"

The King of the Giants seized her by the hair again and pulled her to her feet where Peter could see her. She turned her face away from him in shame, holding up her hands in a useless attempt to cover her grossly swollen belly.

"Linnet!"

Peter's head spun as the sickness rose in his throat, and the heat and the darkness and the laughter of Giants swept over him.

**Author's Note: Gentle reader, please don't kill me. :::runs and hides:::**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Ten

"Linnet," Peter murmured, his breath coming in pained little gasps. "Linnet, no."

Susan pressed a wet cloth to his face, desperate to cool the fever that had raged through him since he was hurt. Where was Lucy? Where was Areli? They had sent the Gryphon to Terebinthia twelve days ago. He should have been back in five.

Milos, the Centaur healer, was doing all he could to keep Peter alive until the cordial came, but he could make no promises. He only looked grave and said they must trust to the Lion and try to keep the High King's temperature down.

She hated that they had to keep Peter drugged, but she knew it was the only way to make sure he would stay in bed and allow his body to heal. He had seemed to be improving somewhat, his fever ebbing a little and his breathing sounding less labored, but then he had taken a turn for the worse. Even sedated, he thrashed and tossed in the bedclothes, struggling against something she could not see, calling for Linnet, for Oreius, for Edmund, and then, sobbing, for Aslan. That was the worst, those desperate, broken pleas that tore at her heart and filled her eyes with tears and made her, too, cry out to the Great Lion for help.

Now he merely called for Linnet, his voice weak and hoarse with repetition, and she touched the wet cloth to his parched lips.

"Shh, Peter, it's all right. It's all right. Rest now. It's all right."

He quieted at that, his quick breaths slowing to a more normal pace, but she could tell from the pain that lined his face that is wasn't peace but exhaustion that had, for the moment, stopped his struggles. She pressed her hand to his too-warm cheek, and he leaned into it, seeking comfort.

"Linnet."

"Shh," she soothed, stroking back his tangled hair with her free hand. "Edmund will bring her back. He'll bring her back."

She looked up at the waiting woman hovering near the bed and gave her a wan smile.

"I wish he could hear me. I wish he could understand."

Ada handed her a fresh cold cloth and took the old one from her, concern on her round face. "I wonder, My Lady. Perhaps–"

"What?"

Ada went to the balcony, motioning for Susan to follow.

"Forgive me, My Lady," she said, voice low, "but it may be that he does take it in. At least some of what we say, even when he is unconscious. I have been thinking on it. If you remember, he took that turn after we had the message from King Edmund about– about those horrid Giants." She blinked hard, obviously determined not to cry. "We thought he was sleeping, but mayhap he heard what we said about where they're taking her. Oh, Linnet, my poor lamb."

She ducked her head, sobbing into her copious apron. Susan patted her back, making soothing sounds, but glancing towards the bed.

"No wonder it's upset him. I didn't even think."

"It may be so, My Lady," Ada said, still sniffling but collecting herself again. "The poor, sweet duck, and him loving her so."

Susan hurried back to the bedside and took Peter's hand, leaning close. "It's all right, Peter. Aslan is with us. He is with Edmund and Oreius. He is with Linnet."

For a moment his breathing stopped, and then he slowly exhaled, as if at last, at least for the moment, he had allowed himself to rest.

OOOOO

Lucy leaned against the railing at the bow of the _Cormorant_, the merchant vessel Darreth had commandeered to take them back to Narnia, looking out over the waves, straining to see that shimmer of light that was always her first glimpse of Cair Paravel. She had never forgotten the first time she'd seen it. Peter had pointed it out to her from the cliff at Aslan's camp as Aslan had earlier pointed it out to him, a glint of pure white far away.

Her throat tightened at the thought of her oldest brother. How badly was he hurt? The Gryphon hadn't been able to tell them much before he died, merely that Peter was hurt and Linnet– What about Linnet? Was she hurt, too? Was she dead? Areli hadn't had time to say.

She clung to the railing, head bowed more in grief than reverence. Please, Aslan, be with them both. Get us home in time.

"Pushing will not make her go any faster."

She turned at the good-natured voice and then forced a bit of a smile. "Darreth."

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, I did not mean to interrupt your thoughts."

She took his hand and pulled him up to the railing beside her. "I think those thoughts needed to be interrupted."

There was sympathy in his hazel eyes, but she saw something else there, too. Determination?

"Queen Lucy, I–" He glanced behind them, no doubt making sure Oreius was not there glaring at them, and then he looked out to sea. "You've met Aslan. In person, I mean."

She nodded, waiting for him to go on.

"Well, I just mean to say, I haven't met him, not yet. Not in person. But I've seen–" He smiled faintly. "Before, when I was with your brothers in Terebinthia and in Calormen and then in Narnia, I saw what He did. How He was with them even in the worst of times, and how they leaned on Him even when they didn't know what was going to happen to them or how it could be anything but terrible."

Again she nodded, knowing she couldn't have gotten a single word past the sudden tightness in her throat.

"I just think, after all that, He will be with them now, whatever's happened. He won't forget them." He leaned down just a little to look into her eyes. "He won't forget you."

She started to nod a third time, but instead flung herself against him, arms tight around his waist, face buried against his shoulder as she let out all the tears she had wanted to cry since Areli's heart had burst there in the courtyard of Darreth's castle. She had done her best all this while to be strong, to be a Queen, but sometimes she needed to just be a girl– scared and worried and needing to be held.

For a moment, Darreth only stood there. Then his arms went around her, and he leaned his cheek against her hair. He didn't say anything, he merely held her and let her cry until she was done. She didn't move even after that, just stood in the languid quiet that came after a torrent of tears, glad she need not rush away.

"We'll get there," he whispered. "Don't worry."

She nodded, wishing she had her handkerchief, knowing her face was blotched and her eyes were red. As if he had heard her thought, he slipped his own into her hand.

She didn't thank him, certain he knew already how grateful she was.

OOOOO

"This way, King Edmund! They went this way!"

Tail wagging, Romulus jumped up on a fallen log, making sure Edmund could see him. No telling how far ahead his brother was.

"Yes, we're coming. We're coming." Edmund nudged Philip with his knees. "Don't lose them."

The Horse huffed. "And when did you last see Babur?"

Edmund's expression turned hard, and he leaned forward a little, still urging the horse on. "I don't remember."

Philip came to an abrupt halt, and Edmund nudged him again.

"Well, come on!"

"Why?"

"Why?" Edmund demanded. "Why? Because we can't let them take Linnet any farther away. We have to catch up before they get her to Harfang."

Philip tossed his head, a horse's shrug. "You obviously aren't really interested in getting her back."

"Are you mad? Of course I am. Why do you think I'm even out here?"

"For show? At least you can go back to your brother and claim you did your best."

Edmund sat there for a silent moment, white-knuckled fists gripping the reins. Then he shoved himself out of the saddle.

"Fine." He stalked towards where a puzzled Romulus was staring at him. "Stay here if you want. Go back. I don't have time to care."

Philip ambled up behind him, pushing hard enough with his muzzle to almost knock Edmund off his feet. "Turn around and tell me that."

Edmund spun to face him, chest heaving with angry breaths. "Why are you doing this when you know we don't have time to waste?"

"Time or help, eh?" The Horse shook his head, his bridle jingling. "What am I supposed to think? If you were serious about getting the lady back, you would use every bit of help you could get. You wouldn't treat your friends like so much chaff in your mane."

Edmund frowned. "We wouldn't be out here if he had done his job."

"Or if you had done yours?"

Edmund's mouth dropped open, and then he abruptly shut it, turning away so the Horse couldn't see the pain or the tears in his eyes. Whatever else had happened, he had himself failed Peter. So near the Cair in a time of peace, and he had not kept Peter and Linnet safe. His carefully laid defenses, his network of spies, his layers of guards, they all had failed. He had failed.

Drawing a hard breath, Edmund took two long, determined strides forward, almost stumbling when Philip nudged him again, this time more gently.

"My King."

Edmund stopped, but did not turn.

"Edmund." The Horse nuzzled the back of his hair and then snuffled against his shoulder. "You are not to blame for this. Neither is Babur."

"I should have-"

"'Should have' changes nothing, My King. It is what we will do that is important now. Should we not have all the help available to us?"

Jaw still clenched, Edmund turned. "So where is he?"

"I haven't seen him since before dawn. I thought you might be concerned by now."

Edmund gave him a wry, nearly "I told you so" smile. "Maybe he's gone home."

"No, Your Majesty." The Tiger stepped out of the undergrowth, green eyes flattened and tail swishing. "I am here."

"We don't have time for side trips." Edmund swung himself back into the saddle. "Harfang is this way."

Babur shook his head. "Forgive me, King Edmund, but we need to go west now, not north."

"But you were the one who said they were taking the lady to Talfryn."

"I picked up their trail again. First the scent of the Lizard and then the Woverine and then all the rest. They've turned westward."

Romulus bounded over to them. "Maybe they split up again. To confuse the smells."

Babur shook his head, his expression grim. "Not this time. I can smell them all. They are together, and the lady is with them."

Philip eyed Edmund narrowly. "Which way, My King?"

They'd lose time, time Linnet did not have, if he chose wrong. But they'd already wasted too much time searching the forest, desperate for anything definite. Even if he had made a foolish error in judgment, Babur was a good tracker, better than the Wolves, Edmund knew. As Philip had said, it would be foolish to throw away any kind of help at this point.

"Go get Remus," Edmund told Romulus. "We're going west."

OOOOO

Peter struggled through the sweltering darkness into the cool half-light. Cool? Through barely open eyes, he could see the dawn light touch the sea with pale gold. The sea. Lucy's sea. Home.

With trembling fingers, he touched his forehead and felt smooth bandages, the same as the ones that bound his ribs. He could tell by the piercing pain that they were not yet healed. It couldn't have been long since he was hurt, since Linnet-

Perhaps she had not yet been taken to Harfang. Perhaps his hideous nightmare still need not come true. Perhaps he had time-

"Shh, Peter, it's all right. Lie still now. Lie still."

Susan pressed one gentle hand against his shoulder, holding him where he was. No doubt she had been wakened by his low gasp when his attempt to get up had sent pain knifing through him.

"Su?"

He hated how weak his voice sounded, but she leaned over him, smiling her gentle smile.

"I think your fever is down at last."

"Su." He took hold of her wrist, his grip as feeble as his voice. "Linnet? Did Edmund-"

"Shh."

"I don't– don't remember." Did they take her to Talfryn? Had he only imagined– His breath was coming a little faster now. "Have you heard from Edmund?"

"Hush now," she soothed. "He promised to see to everything. You just need to rest."

He struggled again to sit up. "I need to-"

"You need to take this." She popped a spoonful of something sickly sweet into his mouth before he realized it. "Sleep now."

Sleep. With the help of this potion, it was all he had done for he didn't know how long. Sleep. Sleep and let them take Linnet closer and closer to Harfang. To Talfryn. To perdition. He couldn't do it anymore. He wouldn't.

Susan smiled as he nestled into the pillows and let his eyelids drift closed. But when she turned to refill the water pitcher at his bedside, he snatched up the wet cloth laying beside it and spat the potion into it. Then he lay back again as if he had never moved.

OOOOO

At sunset, Lucy had seen the first Gull. He had circled around her head, calling his welcome to her.

"Where is the Splendor Hyaline, Majesty? We did not expect to see you on a trading vessel."

"Rabson! Hurry! Fly to the Cair. Tell the Queen Susan we are coming. Tell her to meet us at the dock!"

"At once, My Queen! At once!"

She had watched him fly away, wishing she could trust the cordial to him, but Gulls were notoriously slow witted and easy to distract. She would have to wait and take the vial to Peter herself. Oh, please, let him still be alive.

The winds and the tides were wrong, and the master of the Cormorant would not hear of docking until it was safe. Lucy clung to the rail and to Darreth's hand until, at about four the next morning, they came into port. Susan was standing there waiting for her.

"Lucy!"

Lucy ran to her, catching her hands. "Is Peter-"

"He's still very ill, but his fever is down at last. He's sleeping now. Ada's watching over him."

Lucy exhaled, and the two girls hurried towards the Cair, leaving Oreius to see to the Captain of the ship and to Darreth.

"I was so worried. Areli-" Lucy shook her head. "He got to Terebinthia and told us Peter was hurt. He mentioned Linnet, and then he just died. Oreius said his heart must have burst from overtaxing himself in the flight. What happened to Linnet? Is she all right?"

Susan only quickened her pace. "It's terrible. We don't know who's responsible, but she was taken away. They left Peter for dead, and Edmund went after her. He sent us word a few days ago that they were taking her to Harfang."

"Harfang." Lucy's blood turned hot. "They wouldn't dare!"

"They would. Peter's nearly killed himself trying to go after her, too. You'd better give him the cordial. I don't think he'll argue with you over taking it this time."

They hurried up to Peter's quarters. There they found Ada slumbering soundly in her chair, unable to be roused. The little bottle of sleeping medicine was empty, and Peter was gone.

**Author's Note: See? I didn't keep you in suspense about the last chapter very long. But, uh oh, **_**now**_** what's Peter done? I'd love to know what you think of this chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Eleven

"But why not Harfang?"

Edmund knelt again, studying the print of an enormous boot. Clearly it belonged to a Giant, a Giant who was headed west just ahead of them. But headed west where?

"If they were taking Linnet to Talfryn, why wouldn't they take her to Harfang?"

Babur frowned. "I cannot say, King Edmund, but it would seem this is a party of at least five Giants traveling west, well within Narnia's borders. Perhaps they are to meet the ruffians who took the lady."

"But why come west to do it? Harfang is a good way northeast of us now and Cair Paravel farther east than that. Why take her west?

Philip shifted his hooves uneasily. "What is up ahead?"

"Briarberry," Edmund told him. "Why?"

Philip lifted his muzzle, sniffing the air. "What's Briarberry?"

Edmund shrugged. "Just a little village. Really too small to even be called a village. Four or five families perhaps. Settlers from the Lone Islands trying their hand at farming. What's wrong?"

Philip gave an unsettled whicker. "I smell–"

"Blood!" Romulus burst out of the underbrush, the whites of his eyes showing and his fur bristling. "This way, King Edmund!"

Ahead, Remus was howling and yipping. With a snarl, Babur leapt towards the sound with Romulus and Philip at his heels. Edmund raced after them and then stopped still at the edge of the clearing. Before him lay the smoking remains of a few cottages and, beyond, fields of wheat still burning, and sprawled there on the ground were the bodies.

They were so badly hacked, he could not tell how many there were. Five or six men, all with weapons in their hands, one with a baby shielded against his chest. Seven women perhaps, two of them old, one barely in her teens and in her white grip a broom handle, broken and bloodied over some attacker's head. He couldn't look at the children. Oh, Aslan–

He looked up at the sun shining bright in the clear sky and blinked his stinging eyes. "Philip–"

"Hurry! You have to go!"

Edmund turned at the shrill voice and, shading his eyes, saw a young Squirrel halfway up a cypress looking frantically past the burning fields and into the west.

"What do you mean?" Edmund asked, going to him. "Who did this?"

"You have to go," the Squirrel squeaked. "Leave Narnia or you must die."

The Wolves stood up against the trunk of the cypress, growling and glaring at the Squirrel. Babur merely bounded up and caught him, squealing, in his huge paws.

"What do you mean?" the Tiger demanded. "Who says this? Why should we leave?"

The Squirrel trembled and tried to wriggle away from him. "N-not you. Not all of you. Only the– the human." He looked at Edmund, terrified. "Go before they return. P-please."

"Let him go, Babur," Edmund said. "We'll never find out anything if you scare him to death."

With a snarl, the Tiger opened his paws, and the Squirrel ran back up into the tree.

"Go!" he cried again. "Hurry!"

"Wait!" Edmund called after him. "Just tell us who did this. Why was it done? Why must I leave?"

"All the humans must either leave Narnia or die," the Squirrel said as he scurried higher. "It is by order of Aslan himself."

Then he leapt onto the branch of a towering oak and was gone.

OOOOO

Peter clung to the Gryphon's neck, lying flat against him as he soared through the darkness, staying low over the trees. Whether the storm that raged around them was a curse or a blessing, he didn't know. It had blown in from the sea just after he had stolen away from the Cair, overshadowing the land with black clouds and whipping rain that covered his flight but soaked into his hair, through his clothes and bandages and down to his skin.

Whether he shook from cold or fever, he wasn't sure. It didn't matter. He couldn't stay there in the Cair while those devils took Linnet to Harfang. His head swam as the images from his nightmare flashed through his mind. Linnet captive. Linnet Talfryn's unwilling Queen. Linnet forced to–

His hands slipped on the Gryphon's wet feathers, and he lurched to one side. With a gasp that knifed through his battered ribs, he scrambled to right himself, trying to hold on with arms and legs, but he only slipped more, sliding towards the deep darkness that was the forest below.

"Sher!"

But the Gryphon was already tilting to one side, lifting his wing so Peter slid back into place.

"We must go down, My King!" he shrieked over the howling wind. "You are not strong enough!"

"No! There's no time! Go on! Go on!"

Sher made no reply but shot higher into the air. Moments later, he dove down, circling until he touched down atop a sheer cliff in the side of a mountain and carried Peter into an almost-invisible opening in the rock.

He shook the rain from his bedraggled wings, folded them against his body and then couched down. Peter slid off his back and sank to the cave floor, panting.

"I– told you– to go on."

Sher glared at him and then nudged Peter's pack towards him. "If you have a cloak in there, you'd better wrap up in it. No use you getting sicker than you already are."

Hands shaking, Peter did as the Gryphon said. His bones ached with the cold and the wet and the howl of the wind, and the thick wool of his cloak was as welcome as a warm embrace. Unbidden, his thoughts turned again to Linnet and the last time he had put his arms around her. There in the grotto when he was going to ask her to marry him, just before–

The memory of her cries tore through him, the pain as he was driven to the ground, as she was ripped from his arms, the cold rush of water and the blue-green dimming to black, the pain, the pain, the pain–

"Majesty?"

Peter's startled gasp thrust a blade of agony through his ribs. "Wh– what?"

"I said you must eat."

The Gryphon pushed a strip of dried beef towards him, and he picked it up, staring at it.

"Eat," Sher repeated, nudging Peter's hand with his beak. "Eat."

Peter bit off a piece of the meat, barely chewing before he swallowed, but it was sawdust in his throat. Thunder rolled, and the image of Linnet sitting doll-like at the table of the Giant King flashed into his head. He barely kept his food from coming back up. Knowing he couldn't eat more, he threw the remainder on the cave floor and huddled against the stone wall.

The Gryphon peered into his face. "I should never have taken you from the Cair. The General, not to mention the Queen Susan, will kill me for it."

Peter glared at him, trying not to look as if he were having trouble focusing. "I told you I was going. With you or without you. Did you want one of the other Gryphons to go in your place? Or would you rather I had gone alone."

Sher frowned. "I would rather you had stayed in bed as if you had good sense. But no, if you were set on going, I had rather tend to you myself." His expression softened. "But please, My King, now you must rest. How can you help the lady if you can hardly stand?"

"I know," Peter murmured, dropping his head into his hands. "I know."

The Gryphon gently pressed his head against Peter's shoulder. "We will stay here the night, let the storm pass, let you gather your strength. In the morning we will set out again, when there is light enough to see."

Shaken with another booming clap of thunder, Peter gave him a vague nod. Then he lowered himself to the hard ground and curled up on his side. Had to rest. Had to sleep. The rain beat against the rocks, swirling in the wind that shrieked and moaned across the cave opening.

The moaning turned to mocking laughter, the slow, stupid laughter of Giants as they leered down on him from all sides.

"What will you do, Little King?" they jeered. "You are too late. The bargain is made. She belongs to us now, the Queen of all the Giants!"

Dragging her by one arm like a stringless puppet, Talfryn, their King, tossed Linnet down to the ground next to him, careless of how she fell. "There. You see, Peter of Narnia? There is my Queen, and as tasty a morsel as ever I had. She will tell you. Ask her. There is no going back. She will tell you."

With a faint moan, Linnet struggled with the distended weight of her belly and finally pushed herself to her hands and knees.

"Linnet, sweetheart."

Peter reached towards her, but she turned away, her lank blonde hair hanging down to conceal her face.

"Linnet?"

"I waited," she murmured, her voice empty of emotion. "I begged you to come for me, to take me home with you, and now . . . "

"Linnet, please. I'm here now. I'm going to take you home. I won't let them–"

"I wept for you, Peter," she said in that same empty voice. "I prayed you would come. I pled and begged and screamed for you to come. But you never did. You never did."

Tears stung his eyes and swelled in his throat. "I– I tried. I wanted to. I couldn't–"

"You didn't." She sat up, looking at him at last, and her gray eyes were as empty as her voice. "Now I can never go home."

"No," he pled. "I'm here. I'll take you home. Please, Linnet, I love you. I want you. I'm–"

"You're too late, Peter." She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her stomach, holding it there until he felt a sharp kick. "You're too late."

Then, horribly, she started to laugh, high and hysterical, and the Giants laughed with her, howling and roaring and gibbering, and there was nothing he could do but clap his hands over his ears and sink down in despair, screaming again and again. _Linnet. Linnet._

"Linnet!"

He scrambled to his feet, his back against the cave wall, drenched with sudden sweat. Still the wind and rain swirled outside the cave opening. How long had he slept? Half an hour, surely no more than that, but if sleep held such dreams–

He put one hand over his mouth, using the other to steady himself as his stomach heaved. _Linnet. Linnet._

_I wept for you, Peter. I prayed you would come. You never did._

"Oh, Linnet," he rasped, his breath hitching and jarring his battered ribs. "No. Please, no. I am coming. I am."

Sher stood between him and the outside. "It was only a dream, Sire. Lie down again. Rest until morning."

Peter pressed himself more tightly against the rock, wary eyes on the Gryphon. "I have to go, Sher. My lady needs me. She needs me now."

Sher did not move. "I cannot allow it, Sire. You are in no condition–"

"No," Peter breathed, trembling from head to foot. "I have to go. She needs me."

"Sire–"

"She needs me!"

The cave echoed with his shout, and he closed his eyes, trying to compose himself.

"Sher," he said, his voice as even and calm as he could make it. "I am going now. Either you can fly me out, or I will get down by myself." He sank to one knee, stuffed the cloak back into his pack and then staggered up again. "I will walk down or climb down or jump down, but I will go down and I will go now. My lady needs me, she needs me now, and I cannot fail her."

The Gryphon said nothing for what seemed eternity, and then he bowed. "As my King commands."

**Author's Note: And . . . I'd love to know what you think and if you want more.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twelve

Edmund lifted the last body onto the pile. This one was a little girl, barely a toddler by the look of her. Sweet faced and golden haired, a little Lucy– No, he wouldn't think of Lucy just now. He wouldn't imagine her in such a bloody tangle of carnage. Not her. Not Susan or Peter.

No humans in Narnia? How could that be Aslan's will? And, even if He had made such a decree, surely the slaughter of innocents was not His way to bring it to pass.

Edmund stood looking at the pitiful heap, wishing not for the first time that he had some way to bury them. But he was just one man, and he had no tools and no time. If he was to keep this from happening again, he had to move swiftly. And yet he could not leave the dead to be torn by carrion-eaters or rot under the sun.

"Is Aslan angry with you, King Edmund?"

He turned to see Remus looking up at him, yellow eyes round and wondering.

"Is He angry?" the Wolf asked again. "Is that why all the people died?"

Romulus shook his shaggy head. "There's no way to know. He's not a tame Lion."

"But He is good," Edmund said, his throat tightening as he turned his eyes again to the slain. "We may not understand His ways, but we can know His character. He does not change. He is all justice, and He is all mercy. There is neither justice nor mercy in this."

For another moment, there was silence, then Philip came up to Edmund's side, bridle jingling faintly. "You will burn them then?"

Edmund closed his eyes. He hated this. "I don't have much choice."

"King Edmund! King Edmund!" Chip, his little Swallow scout, shot out of the forest and landed on his shoulder. "There are Dwarfs coming."

The Wolves turned towards the trees, fur bristled, as five or six Dwarfs waddled into the clearing, picks and shovels over their shoulders. Immediately their hands were on their daggers.

"What's this then?" the first one asked, his bushy brows raised.

"We mean you no harm," Edmund assured him. "We came upon them dead, their homes and fields burned, but we do not know what happened. Do you know who might have done this?"

The bushy-browed Dwarf looked at the others, shrugging. "Any of you know? We've heard it said the Great Lion Himself has said the humans must leave the kingdom, but we haven't heard much more than that, eh, lads?"

There was a general murmur of agreement among the Dwarfs.

"But who is saying this?" Edmund asked. "On whose authority?"

"Dunno. We have our mine to tend to," the chief Dwarf said when none of the others had anything helpful to say. "We've no dealings with human matters." He shook his head at the destruction before them. "Bad business this, but nothing to do with us."

"But you had heard of this so-called decree of Aslan?"

Again the Dwarf shrugged. "Something of it, I suppose."

"And you didn't tell anyone? You didn't warn the people? You sent no word to Cair Paravel?"

It took every bit of restraint Edmund had cultivated since coming to Narnia to hold back the blistering words that leapt to his tongue when the Dwarfs merely shrugged once again. He managed an even tone.

"And you can tell us nothing more?"

"Don't know nothin' more to tell," said the Dwarf. "Bad business, as I said, but none of ours."

Edmund glanced at Philip who only subtly shook his head. Now was the time for prudence, the Horse's look clearly said, not emotion.

Edmund drew a deep breath and forced a stoic expression. "I see. Thank you. Might we ask one last indulgence of you, Master Dwarf?"

The Dwarf eyed him narrowly. "And that would be?"

"As you can see, my companions are ill-suited for digging. Myself, I have no tools. I was going to burn these poor unfortunates, but it seems rather cruel to have them suffer the same fate as their homes and crops. Would you and your fellows consider burying them?"

Frowning, the Dwarf turned to confer with his companions. Then he nodded.

"I suppose we could do that much. No profit in it, of course, but at least we'll be spared the smell of the burning. Come on, lads. Look lively, and we'll make short work of it."

Fists clenched, Edmund watched as they waddled towards the pile of bodies. Then, with his Wolves looking questioningly at him, he swung onto Philip's back.

"Get me out of here."

OOOOO

From a high, east-facing bluff, she stood watching smoke billow black from the other side of the forest. The wind carried the stench of burning flesh back to her, stinging her eyes and nostrils. How many this time? It did not matter. This was what was required. This is what Zenon would do. What he must do.

"Demeter!"

She saw him below, sword lifted in triumph as he galloped towards her. At the sight, as it always did, her heart gave a sudden painful throb. The sun glinted silver off his armor, off the sable and deep crimson of his shield, off the mixed gold of his flowing hair and tail. Every line of him cried out warrior, captain, King. The rest of the stallions from their herd were fanned about behind him, their hooves rumbling as they approached the bluff. Heads high, faces grim with righteous resolve, their weapons gleaming. Yes, they would have been freshly cleaned.

They turned aside, right and left, seeking out their own loved ones, but still he charged up the path to her. "Demeter!"

She swiftly wiped her eyes and turned a smile to him."Zenon. Husband."

In an instant, his arms were around her. He kissed her, lips, cheeks and forehead, and then pressed her head against his shoulder, holding her there. For a long while they stayed just that way, he whispering sweetness into her hair and she with her eyes closed and her face hidden against him. If only it could always be this way.

She finally pulled away from him. "It . . . went well?"

He took her hand, leading her under a stand of yew trees. "Just as planned. They were no match for us."

Slaughter.

"And there will be more?"

"You know this is only the beginning."

He put his hands to the straps on his breastplate, but she pushed them away, wanting to tend to him herself, wishing she could take his armor off and know he would never put it on again. But, no, that could not be. She knew it would not be. He had been charged with a great task. He would press on, all warrior, until that task was fulfilled.

"I know." She undid the straps on his right side. "I just wish it was over."

He lifted off the breastplate and laid it on the grass at their feet. "Not every task is a pleasant one. And yet they all must be done."

"I know."

His under tunic was sweat stained and even dotted with blood. His own, there where his armor had been dented and driven into the skin at the back of one shoulder. It must have taken a mighty blow to do even that much through steel. She reached up to examine it, and he waved her away with a smile.

"It is nothing, sweet. Though I will have to have the dent hammered out before I go again to do as I am commanded."

She let out a sigh, hardly aware of it, and he turned her face up to him, eyes gleaming like blue diamonds in his chiseled face.

"You doubt me, Demeter?"

She shrank back, only a little, and his face softened.

"Me, my love?"

She threw herself against him, straining him close, again hiding her face in the familiar curve of his neck. "No. How could I? I only . . . I fear for you. For all of your warriors. The humans will not stand by and simply allow themselves to be killed. Themselves. Their wives." She clung to him more tightly. "Their foals."

He said nothing for a long while, and then she felt his fingers in her hair, stroking it back, gentle, loving.

"Your heart is racing," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear. "Like that day I first saw you with your pretty tail full of brambles and your fine, dainty hooves caked with mud and barbarous ropes on your poor wrists and neck."

She closed her eyes, trembling at the memory. It had been nearly two years, but she could still see it vividly. She and her mother and sister had wandered a little way from the herd, just beyond some trees, when the men had come. Before the three of them could run, they were roped, cruelly bound and gagged so they could not cry out.

The men only laughed at their wordless pleas, their tears. They were to be taken south, a gift for their Tisroc, may he burn forever, and never to see green Narnia again. For two days, they were driven across the meadows and through the hills, farther and farther away from their home. For two days, Demeter silently pled for help to come, for some means of escape.

That night, just before they were to cross into the mountains, into Archenland, the man who had tied her had been careless. He'd been eager to get to his supper and thought the captives too cowed to even think of running. But, as the moon rose silver over the grove where the humans slept, Demeter had managed to work loose the knot that secured her rope to a tree. At her mother's silent urging, she had galloped away, hands still bound, mouth still gagged, the rope still dangling from her neck. She ran, careless of muddy fields and thorns and burrs and briars, ran until, just at the first touch of the sun, she saw him standing proud and golden at the top of a ridge. Not of her own herd, but of her own kind. A Centaur at last.

The moment he saw her, Zenon's face darkened with rage and he galloped to her side. With swift and gentle hands, he removed her bonds, soothing her tears as she told him what had happened, as she begged his help for her mother and sister. In fury, he had drawn his sword and charged towards the slavers' camp.

One of the men had been sent to find her and bring her back. Zenon came upon him first, striking off his head before the man could do more than look startled. Another of the humans, set to stand watch, ran to warn his fellows. By the time she and Zenon reached the clearing, the men had vanished over the border. Still bound and helpless, her mother and sister lay in the spattered grass, their throats newly cut. Both dead.

Demeter squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, pressing closer to her husband, not knowing if she trembled at the two-year-old memory or at the thought of what had happened just today. Did it matter whether the innocent were Centaur or human?

"Demeter?" Zenon pressed.

She looked up at him. He had a strong face, the face of a warrior, of a leader, but now it was only the face of her husband, gentle and vulnerable.

"No. I do not doubt you." She leaned up, touching her lips to his throat, then his chin, then his lips. "I merely wish there were another way."

He cupped her cheek in one hand. "I know you, my love. You are thinking on Astraea and your dam, are you not? But is not their fate merely one more example of why the Great Lion has repented of ever allowing humans in His Narnia?"

"But could they not just as well be made to leave? Must they be killed? Even their little ones?"

"I must do as I have been commanded," he said, his face grave, his eyes wary. "You would not wish me to go against the will of Aslan, I know."

"No," she whispered, and then she lifted her chin. "What next?"

"Do not let it trouble you," he said, smiling again. "Everything will be seen to. Our allies are gathering, and soon the battle will begin in earnest. But, once it is done, Narnia will be as she was meant to be, free of humans and ruled only by Narnians." Again his eyes glittered, diamond hard. "As Aslan has decreed."

She stood there, studying his face, searching his eyes for . . . for she was not sure what. Then she looked again towards the east, towards the smoke that still rose from the other side of the forest.

"Last night I had a dream."

**Author's Note: So, what do you think now? Do let me know.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Thirteen

Linnet managed to keep moving, her feet bruised and sore in her battered velvet slippers, her wrists raw with the biting of the rope, her head drooping with sheer exhaustion. They had left the cart when they left the road, unable to navigate it through the trees and undergrowth and evidently no longer concerned, here in the deep wild of the Western Wood, that she would be seen and recognized. At least they no longer kept her gagged. She dared not ask questions or even speak very often for fear they would change their minds on that point.

It was hard to tell if they were cruel or just uncaring. They belonged to this land, all of them except the odious Calormene lizard. The half-Dru, Argyrus, was the one most like her, but he was a creature of the woodlands and such a journey was nothing to him, nothing to the Wolverine and Satyr, less than nothing to the two Centaurs. None of them came from near Cair Paravel. Perhaps they knew nothing of humans and their limited endurance.

"Come," the half-Dru barked, "we are nearly there."

_There? _She looked pleadingly at the blue-eyed Centaur, remembering again what Peter had said about his kind being Aslan's trusted servants, His prophets. Perhaps somehow–

She fell against him when Argyrus yanked the rope that bound her wrists.

With a snort, the Centaur shifted on his hooves, trying not to step on her, finally holding her up with one muscular arm. "Argyrus! Mind what you do! Queen or not, he can hardly bargain with damaged goods."

"And he cannot bargain at all if they are there before us," the half-Dru snarled. "We have no time. Carry her."

The Centaur glared at him. "We are not dumb horses. We do not carry riders."

The other Centaur, the dark one, merely slung Linnet over his broad shoulder, his face hard as flint. "These are not common times, Aurelius. The Great Lion now asks of us things we have not usually done. This is no different."

He stalked with her into the forest and the others scurried after him, the fair-haired Centaur last of all. Her head swam and her body protested as she was jolted over the rough ground for what seemed an eternity longer. It was dusk when the dark Centaur carried her into an opening in the side of a cliff and deposited her on a blanket near the back of a cave.

She sank into a quivering heap, grateful that the jolting had stopped. Surely now they would give her at least some water. Maybe even food and, please Aslan, a little rest. Clearly this was not just a convenient shelter they had stumbled upon. There were supplies here. Food. Weapons. This was their lair. Was it here they were to meet this "he" and this "they" the half-Dru had spoken of?

For a long while, they paid her no mind, slinging off packs and unstrapping weapons. The Satyr was once again the designated cook, pulling out a variety of edibles from their stores. Finally, the blond Centaur came to her with a cup of water and a bowl of some kind of stew. She was too hungry to care what was in it.

"Thank you," she breathed once she had gulped down the water, and she thought perhaps the customary disdain in his stern face had lessened. "Aurelius?"

He had already turned to leave her, but he stopped and turned back, giving her a questioning glance but saying nothing.

"Please, will you not tell me what is to happen? Why have you done this? What do you want with Lu– with me?"

"You will know in time, Queen Lucy. Worrying yourself will change nothing."

"Please," she urged when he turned away again. "King Peter–" Her throat tightened around the beloved name, around the thought of him lying dead at the bottom of the lovely sea. "Peter says you Centaurs are loyal to Aslan. How can you do such things in His name? And against His chosen Sovereigns?"

He faced her, and his eyes were cold and hard. "If the Great Lion has repented His choice, it is the fault of you humans and no one else."

"Why?" she begged. "Please–"

"Aurelius!"

The Centaur turned at Argyrus's voice. "What is it?"

"It is time." The half-Dru strode to the back of the cave, looking down at Linnet with satisfaction. "I need you and Maurus to fetch him now. He will want to see his bargaining chip before the others arrive at his camp."

Aurelius curled his lip. "Do you think to send for him to come to you, courier?"

"I think," Argyrus said with a flash of his silver eyes, "that he is not ready for the others to know about this part of the plan, especially his mate. Not until the time is right. Now hurry, or they will be there before you."

Aurelius flicked his tail, but made no more objections. A moment later, he and the dark Centaur clattered out of the cave and into the fast-falling night.

Argyrus watched them go, and then snapped his fingers. "Bashkara. Watch her."

With a hissing cackle, the Lizard slithered up between her and the cave opening and lay down, fixing her with glittering and watchful eyes. She shrank back against the hard stone and dared not move.

OOOOO

Lucy slowed her horse to a stop. "What now?"

Based on Edmund's message about Talfryn, she and Oreius and Darreth had headed north, fighting the storm the whole way. Now they were almost to the Ettin border when a Hawk flew in with a message from Susan. Edmund's message to her was enclosed.

_Dear Su~_

_They've turned west. We've lost track of them, but other evidence shows we are headed in the right direction. More when I know more. Aslan with you and with us._

_Love,_

_Ed_

_P. S. Make Lucy stay home._

Lucy was too worried to laugh over his postscript, though she knew that Edmund knew she would ignore it. Oreius had been too worried to even suggest she comply.

"What do we do now?" she asked him. "Which way? Peter wouldn't know to go west, would he?"

Maybe he was even now approaching Harfang, ready to demand the Giants return a prize they did not have? Oreius had sent out almost all of his soldiers with flight capabilities to search for Peter, but none of them had found anything. He had not picked Sher for Peter's personal guard on a whim. The Gryphon was wily, clever and experienced, and it was those very qualities that had infuriated the Centaur when they found out Sher was Peter's partner in madness. Sher should have known better. Peter should have, too.

"Which way?" Lucy repeated, not letting herself think anymore about what may have happened to her eldest brother. Aslan, did he have to be so stupidly brave?

Oreius scanned the path ahead of them. "I do not know, My Queen. Bast, do you see anything at all?"

The Tigress's striped head popped out from behind a tree. "Nothing, General. I do smell feverfew where none is growing. That's likely to mean Babur came through here not wanting to be smelled by King Edmund's Wolves. It is a trick he's often used. Good thing the storm did not come this far north and wash the scent away. But this must have been where they turned west."

Oreius nodded grimly. "Anything else?"

Bast's wide forehead furrowed. "The smell of burning, but it is some way off."

"Do you smell King Edmund and the Wolves, Bast?" Darreth asked, pulling up next to Lucy.

"I do, Lord Darreth. But that does not help us find _my_ King."

Oreius stamped one hoof. "I taught Sher everything I know about evading detection. I never thought to have it used against me."

"Why not?"

Lucy cringed at Darreth's innocent question, and face flint, Oreius turned to him.

"I beg your pardon, My Lord?"

"I have always heard you planned for every possibility, General." Darreth looked at Lucy, only looking puzzled at her cautioning glance. "Should you not have prepared for that one?"

"Perhaps so, My Lord Duke. I will certainly prepare for it in the future. Sher and the High King will have much to answer for once they are found."

_If they are found_, Lucy read in the Centaur's dark eyes, and she was forced to look away. She couldn't let him give up hope. She couldn't let herself.

"This would not have happened if my brother had done his proper duty in the first place," Bast said, green eyes flattened. "Anything you deem suitable as punishment, General, will be nothing compared to what he will get from me."

"Surely he intended no harm," Darreth offered tentatively. "He could not have known–"

"He could have followed orders," Oreius snapped. "Sher as well. And the High King."

Darreth bowed his head, obviously just now realizing his comments were not deemed helpful. "As you say, General."

The Centaur gave Lucy a look that clearly said the Terebinthian Duke would have done better to stay at home, but they had been through that already. Lucy wanted Darreth with them. With her. She wanted to reach over and take Darreth's hand, thinking that would lessen the sting of the General's disdain, but she knew that would only put the Duke more in the Centaur's bad graces. Instead she turned to Oreius.

"Which way now?"

The Centaur looked west and then north, clearly conflicted. Then he pressed his lips into a hard line. "King Edmund has Philip and his Wolves and Babur with him. He has a perilous enough mission, but he is whole and well armed. The High King has only Sher and a number of injuries. Perhaps we had better go north to find him, do you not think so, My Queen?"

Lucy glanced towards the west, towards where Edmund and Linnet must have gone, and then she nodded. "Yes, we'd better go north. Go on, Bast."

With a slight bow of her head, the Tigress bounded into the trees. They had gone only a short way after her when she bounded back.

"General!"

Oreius hurried to her. "What is it?"

"A path through the trees. Not around the trees, but literally through them, branches and even trunks broken. Only one thing leaves such a trail."

Oreius's dark eyes flashed. "Giants. We head west."

He took off at a gallop, and motioning for Darreth to follow, Lucy spurred her horse after him.

OOOOO

Peter had barely seen the broken path in the dim light of that morning, but he had recognized it right away. Sher had, too. At that point, there had been no need for discussion. The Gryphon had merely turned west, swooping low so they could get a better look at the snapped limbs and shorn treetops.

The only movement Peter spotted was a Robin hopping frantically around what remained of her nest, her two little fledglings sitting puffed up and blinking beside it. Peter told Sher to take him down there.

"Was it Giants?" he asked sympathetically, trying to ignore the pain in his head and ribs.

"It was," the Robin said, eyes bright with fury. "They come stamping through the trees without even a beg your pardon. I ask you!"

"I am very sorry," Peter said. "But I see your little ones are unharmed."

"No fault of theirs, I'm sure," she said with a disdainful sniff.

"Did you hear what they said? Anything at all? Did you recognize them?"

"Me? Don't be absurd. I've never been one to associate with their sort. All I heard was one was called Culhwch and another they called King, but by then they had ruined our home and I had to do what I could for my babes."

Peter clenched his jaw. He did not know this Culhwch, but surely it would be too much of a coincidence if one of the giants, the one they called King, was not Talfryn himself.

"You are looking for these Giants?" She turned her head to one side, cocking one shiny eye. "Is that wise?"

He tried not to laugh. Even sardonic laughter hurt his ribs too much. "It is what I must do. Thank you for your help. Come on, Sher. We've no time to waste."

The Gryphon had shot up into the sky after that, flying as far and fast as he was able. Now it was late, and the light was once more dim. They would have to stop for the night soon. Not for his own comfort, Peter assured himself, but because Sher would doubtless need the rest.

He was about to tell the Gryphon to land when he saw a flicker of orange-red ahead of them, farther down the Giants' path of destruction. As usual, Sher had already spotted it, too. Without a sound the Gryphon glided towards it, swooping through the cover of the trees, keeping Peter and himself both out of sight.

There were six Giants lounging around a blazing fire, finishing the last of their supper, some large four-legged creature they had roasted. Gnawed and broken bones were tossed into a pile at the foot of a nearby tree on top of the creature's discarded hide. The Giants passed around a large wineskin, laughing as the liquid ran red on their lips and down their beards.

Peter cringed at the hateful sound and signaled Sher to land in one of the trees so they could listen unobserved.

"Tomorrow then," one of them said. "Suppertime latest, eh?"

Peter felt bile rise in his throat. It was Talfryn himself, black-bearded and shaggy, ill-kept even in his kingly finery, a sad mockery of what was fashionable at the courts of Cair Paravel and Anvard. Peter had seen him twice before, under the flag of truce and in peace negotiations that had never come to any good. Peter had seen him most recently in his nightmares.

_There is my Queen, and as tasty a morsel as ever I had._

"No," Peter breathed into the darkness. "Never your Queen and never your trinket."

Again the King of the Giants laughed. "Teach that insolent pup at Cair Paravel to scorn our offer, as fine as ever he's like to see. His refusal was an insult, even wrapped as it was in pretty words. Well we shall laugh the last, eh, my lads? And fair Queen Lucy shall be mistress of Harfang after all.

"Lucy!" Peter gasped, and Sher looked at him in horror.

"Sire, no. They will hear."

Already the Giants were struggling to their feet.

"What was that?" one of them said, peering into the darkness in Peter's direction.

Another of them picked up his spear, big as a beam, and took at step forward. "Over there. I see him now. In the tree."

Two of them drew their swords. Two others took up spears as well. Talfryn himself swung his battleaxe onto his shoulder.

"Come, Sire," Sher urged. "Before it is too late."

Peter leapt onto his back, and the Gryphon burst through the leaves and into the air.

"There!" one of the Giants cried. "There!"

He drew back and hurled his spear. It whistled past Peter's head and crashed into a tree.

"Bring him down!" Talfryn ordered. "At once!"

He flung his battleaxe, and it came flashing towards Sher's middle, but the Gryphon soared higher, and the weapon merely thudded to the ground.

"He is escaping!" the King of the Giants howled. "Hurry!"

Peter ducked low, as the Gryphon soared higher, powerful wings beating against the air, faster and faster, carrying them to safety. Carrying them to–

The huge spear struck Sher in the side, just in front of Peter's leg. The Gryphon caught a startled breath, struggling to flap his wings just once more. Then, heart pierced, he pitched to one side and began to roll, his glorious feathers streaming behind him like flames of fire.

Peter tried to leap away from the dead weight, knowing it was his only chance, but the spear had gone through his leather jerkin, pinning him to the Gryphon's side, impervious to his desperate attempts to wrench free. And as the dark ground hurtled up to meet him, he once again heard the odious laughter of Giants.

**Author's Note: Oh, dear. **_**That**_** wasn't supposed to happen, was it? I'd love to know what you think.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Fourteen

Oreius was relentless.

Lucy knew this. She had known it since she and her brothers and sister had come here from that Other Place. She had seen it in everything the Centaur did concerning his Kings and Queens and his duty to Narnia herself. Meticulous. Iron willed. Relentless.

She saw those qualities in him now as he kept to a near-gallop a little way ahead of her. He had hardly slowed since they broke camp that morning, and now it was late afternoon. She could feel her mount faltering under her. She could feel herself faltering. She didn't want to stop, they had precious little time as it was, but she was afraid if she didn't rest, if all of them didn't rest, they'd never catch up to Peter anyway.

She was about to tell Oreius they needed to stop when Darreth pulled his horse closer to hers.

"Forgive me, Queen Lucy, but we must take a breather. The horses–"

"Yes, I know. I know."

She slowed her horse to a walk, and he immediately dropped his head, blowing out a tired breath.

"Oreius!" she called, and then she stood in her stirrups. "Oreius! We've got to stop a while."

The General turned to look back at her, his body still facing down the wide path the Giants had torn through the trees, reluctant to retreat even a few steps. He glanced at the horses, his expression black and baleful, as if the poor dumb beasts had willfully disappointed him.

"As you say, My Queen, but only for a moment. Flying, the High King will be hard to intercept. Injured as he is, every moment may count."

"I know." She put one had on the leather pouch at her belt, comforted by the presence of her little diamond bottle of cordial. "But we all need a rest. Even you."

He scowled, pawing the ground, when Darreth dismounted and helped Lucy from her saddle, but he said nothing. He merely looked farther down the path as if he expected the High King to be just over the next rise. If only somehow he could be.

She and Darreth walked up to the General, leading their horses, letting them cool off. If Peter was strong enough to leave his bed, she told herself for the hundredth time, if Sher was with him, he would be fine. She gave Darreth the tiniest little smile, just to show him she had not despaired. They would find Peter. Of course they would. Perhaps just over that rise.

Before they had gone more than a few more steps, Bast came bounding back to them.

"This way, General!"

The Tigress waited until they caught up with her, and then she led them down the ravaged path, over the rise.

"The Giants camped here," she said, lips drawn back in a snarl of disapproval. "There are the remains of the three Oxen they ate last night."

"No sign of the High King?" Oreius asked.

"None," the Tigress said.

"At least we're going in the right direction," Lucy said, clinging to the only positive she could dredge up.

Over near the trees, Oreius nudged a shattered spear with one hoof. "It seems they clashed with someone. Not a true battle, I would not think. There is no evidence of casualties."

"Peter?" Lucy asked, clenching her horse's reins more tightly.

"I see nothing to show the High King was here, My Queen. From what I can tell, the Giants broke camp sometime in the night or very early this morning. Either way, they have nearly a day's lead on us. We should keep moving if we have any hope of catching up to your brother."

"Yes, of course." She looked at Darreth and then back at Oreius. "We'd better walk the horses a bit longer though."

"As you say, My Queen." Again, Oreius scanned the path ahead. "Lead on, Bast."

With a brief bow of her head, the Tigress padded swiftly down the Giants' path and soon disappeared. She was barely out of sight when a desolate, wrenching moan echoed back to them.

Lucy gasped. "Bast!"

Sword instantly unsheathed, Oreius galloped ahead. Lucy and Darreth drew their own weapons and raced after him. All three of them skidded to a stop at the sight that greeted them.

The Tigress stood over the broken body of a Gryphon, a Giant's heavy spear embedded in his side, his bright feathers mottled with blood, his eyes and beak wide open in death.

"Sher!" Lucy dropped her horse's reins, thrust her dagger back into her belt, and ran to where the Gryphon lay. "Oh, Sher!"

Her eyes pooling tears, she dropped to her knees beside the body, stroking his golden fur. Then she looked pleadingly at Oreius.

"Peter?"

The Centaur shoved his sword back into its scabbard, his face flint as he stared down at the body and then surveyed the clearing. "He may not have–"

"My King was here," Bast growled. "His blood is here, mingled with Sher's. And this."

She pawed at the leather jerkin the spear had pinned to the dead Gryphon's side. Lucy recognized it at once.

"Peter's." Her tears spilled onto her cheeks. "Oh, Oreius. Where is he? What have they done with him?"

Oreius wrenched the spear free and, with a roar, hurled it into the trunk of a tree. Then, chest heaving, he turned back to Lucy.

"We must keep going, My Queen, and speed is of the essence." The Centaur's expression was again devoid of emotion. "Perhaps you should stay back with the army. I do not know what we will find ahead. It seems certain the Giants have taken the High King with them. I cannot risk–"

Lucy stood up, fists and jaw clenched, chin lifted. "Either I stay with you or I go ahead without you. You may decide which you prefer."

Oreius's dark eyes flashed, but he made a slight bow. "I will speak no more of it, My Queen."

He turned facing the way they had come and gave a piercing whistle. There was a sharp cry in answer, and a moment later a Hawk dove out of the sky and landed on the Centaur's outstretched arm.

"General?"

"Take word to Captain Drusus that we will be increasing our pace. We do not know what the Giants may have in mind, so tell him to keep the soldiers alert. And tell him to assign a burial detail here. The rest of the army is to stay with us. The detail can catch up when they have finished."

"At once, General."

The Hawk gave a strong flap of his wings and was gone.

For the briefest moment, Oreius stood at Sher's side, head bowed, and then he turned to Lucy. "We must move and move quickly. For the sake of the High King."

Bast looked at her, green eyes flattened, tail swishing, all soldier again. Darreth handed Lucy her horse's reins. Without a word, she swung into the saddle and spurred away.

OOOOO

Tears and strength spent, Linnet had done little more than sleep since Argyrus had brought her to the cave, waking only to eat whatever was put before her and then falling back into dark oblivion. Now, hearing unfamiliar voices, she stirred.

"Where have you put her?"

She struggled to sit up, turning her face from the Calormene Lizard whose gimlet eyes were constantly on her, looking towards the cave entrance instead. In the fading light of late afternoon, the Centaur who stood there in the opening was mostly in shadow, but she could tell he was not one of the ones who had been with them before. He was larger, broader, and wearing armor. His hair and beard were fair, though a much darker blond than the other Centaur's, and his face was strong, clearly the face of one used to command.

With an echoing clatter of hooves, he came farther into the cave along with four other Centaurs, the two Argyrus had sent to fetch him and two Linnet had never seen before. The half-Dru was with them.

"Here," Argyrus said, taking her by the arm and pulling her to her feet.

Still a little dazed with sleep, she stumbled, and he was forced to hold her up.

The Centaur Warrior frowned, no doubt taking in her rumpled, travel-stained clothes, disheveled hair and unwashed face. "What have you been doing to her? Talfryn will hardly want her, Queen or no, if you've harried the beauty from her."

"You gave us very little time," Agryrus said, silver eyes glinting. "What else were we to do?"

With a snort, the Centaur Warrior turned to Linnet. "My name is Zenon, Queen Lucy. You have my apologies for what you have suffered in the charge of these imbeciles."

The Lizard hissed low in his throat, and the Satyr and the Wolverine muttered something between themselves. The half-Dru pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Linnet pulled away from him, rubbing her still-raw wrists as she turned to the Centaur. "I thank you for your concern, Zenon. You are Narnian?"

Zenon bowed. "I am, Your Majesty."

She lifted her head, trying to remember just how Susan and Lucy looked when they presided, crowned Queens, over the royal court. "Then you are our subject, and as your Queen we command you to release us as once."

As she spoke, she drew herself up to her full height. Zenon looked as if he were about to speak, and then his expression changed.

"Bring her out into the light," he told Argyrus.

The half-Dru frowned. "What?"

Not waiting to explain, Zenon grabbed Linnet's arm and hurried her outside, all of the others following after them. By the last light of the sun, he studied her face. Then with an oath he shoved her to the ground.

"This is not the Queen Lucy."

"What?" Argyrus cried over a general murmur of disbelief. "Of course it is. We got her from Cair Paravel as you told us."

The Satyr nodded vigorously. "The fair-haired one. We made sure. Killed the High King to get her."

Argyrus yanked her to her feet again, his dark face even darker with rage. "Tell him! Tell him you are the Queen Lucy! No lies now!"

She lifted her chin, and gave him a bitter, triumphant smile. "I am Lady Linnet of Deerfield. I come from Archenland."

"You lie!"

She flinched when he raised his hand to her, but Zenon caught him by the wrist and pushed him away.

"She is lying!" the half-Dru protested. "Lying in hope we will release her."

"She is not lying, fool," Zenon snapped. "Look at her. It is well known the Queens are tall. She could never be one of them."

"Why did you say nothing?" Argyrus raged, his face mere inches from hers. "Why?"

She shrank back from him but still forced herself to look him in the eye. "And have you kill me and go back to get Lucy? No. Not on my account."

With a snarl, he thrust her into the arms of the Satyr and then turned again to Zenon. "It was a mistake. How could we have–"

"You've spoilt everything with your stupidity." The Centaur Warrior sneered at Argyrus and all of his confederates. "Do you call yourself Narnians? Little wonder you allow these humans to keep your own lands from you! To keep you as slaves to serve them! You haven't the wit to rule yourselves!"

The Wolverine growled low in his throat, showing his razor-sharp claws. One of the Centaurs who had accompanied Zenon immediately put his hand to his weapon, and suddenly there was a clamor of voices, of threats and oaths and warnings. The Satyr stepped closer to the fray, holding Linnet by only one arm as he pointed his dagger at the Centaur he intended to slice to ribbons.

She pulled as far away from the fray as she was able, fearing there would soon be blood shed, not daring to cast her eyes towards the darkening forest. _Oh, Aslan, help me. Please help me._

With a hiss and a foul epithet, the Lizard darted towards Zenon's other companion. That Centaur reared up on his hind legs, cursing when the Lizard sank his teeth into his flesh. At that, the Satyr pushed Linnet aside and rushed forward, the clamor growing into an uproar as they all spat and howled and roared.

She shrank back, edging closer and closer to the trees. Then, with one last prayer, she turned and ran.

**Author's Note: Hmmm . . . frying pan or fire? What now? Many, many thanks to Lady Alambiel for helping me get this chapter written while my muse took an unauthorized vacation. Drat that flighty muse!  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Fifteen

"They're still headed west," Babur said. "We don't dare move any closer, or we'll be seen."

Edmund nodded. "No need. We want to find out what they're up to, not stop them. Not yet." He nudged his Horse's sides. "Come on, Philip."

The Horse said nothing but started up again, keeping a swift pace. The Giants didn't have Linnet, Edmund was sure of that much, but they were meeting up with the ones who had taken her. The ones who had left Peter for dead. He kept his expression coldly impassive, pushing the still-boiling rage deeper inside himself. It would keep. When he finally encountered those responsible, he would need it.

After they had left the massacre at Briarberry, Edmund and led his party alongside and just behind the trail the Giants were tearing through the forest. Talfryn and his cronies would have had no trouble spotting anyone tracking them along such a wide, barren path. Better to stay under cover of the trees and far away enough to not be heard.

The sound of snapping branches and broken tree trunks was enough to let him know they were still headed in the right direction. Still, the Giants would have to reach their rendevous soon, at least if it was to still be in Narnia. He dreaded the thought that those who had taken Linnet had gone somewhere out of the kingdom, beyond the Western March and then . . . where?

"Your Majesty?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Edmund nudged Philip to a stop. Babur looked at him expectantly, and he realized the rumble of the Giants' destruction had ceased. Before he could comment, his Wolves bounded out of the trees.

"They've stopped," Romulus reported, eager eyes on Edmund. "They're making camp."

"You didn't go too close, did you?"

The Wolf wilted at his King's hard glance. "No. We just know they stopped. We could hear them talking about making a fire."

Edmund narrowed his eyes. "Anything else?"

"No."

Romulus ducked his head, still looking at Edmund, waiting for his reaction.

"That's good then. We'd better find a place to camp, too."

The Wolf's eyes lit. "I can find us a place. They said there was water nearby."

"We can find a place," Remus said, nudging him aside, and they both tore into the darkening forest ahead.

The Horse and the Tiger exchanged a look of mild disgust and loped after them.

Before long they were all settled in a sheltered clearing a few yards from a clear-running stream. The night was warm enough and, this close to the Giants' camp, Edmund thought it best to go without a fire. While Babur hunted fresh meat for himself and the Wolves, Edmund removed Philip's saddle and bridle. Then, leaving the Horse to graze, he and the Wolves went down to the stream.

He stripped off his belt, tunic and shirt and ducked his head into the cold water, scrubbing his face and hair and then his arms and chest. Then he sat back on his heels, panting, shoulders sagging, head drooping, just letting the night air blow cool over his wet skin. He heard the Wolves splashing in the stream, lapping noisily and then coming to sit next to him, panting, too. Finally he opened his eyes and began drying himself on his shirt.

Romulus grinned at him, tongue lolling and tail wagging. "It's good water, isn't it, King Edmund? We found good water, didn't we?"

"It's very good." Edmund gave him a weary pat on the head and then blotted the water from his chest.

Remus turned his head to one side. "Why don't you just lick yourself dry?"

Edmund rubbed his eyes. "Because I'm not a Wolf."

"But everybody else licks themselves dry, not just Wolves! Even Bast, and she's _very_ fussy! Wouldn't it be easier if you did?"

"Not really."

"You're not supposed to ask questions like that," Romulus scolded. "Humans don't make sense. Hasn't Bast told you that enough times?"

"I guess so." Remus huffed and then laid his muzzle on Edmund's leg, looking at him with big yellow eyes as if his heart were broken. "I'm sorry, King Edmund. I only did it on accident."

Edmund ruffled the fur between the Wolf's ears. "It's all right."

He stood up, put on the fresh shirt from his pack, and then dunked the soiled one in the stream. It would dry overnight and be nearly as good as new next time he wanted to change. Once he had spread the dripping shirt over a convenient branch, he ran his hand over his chin. Now that he'd stopped to clean up, maybe it would be a good time to get rid of this scratchy stubble.

He took his razor and his little hand mirror out of his pack and knelt by the stream again. The Wolves crept up beside him, watching intently as they always did. They usually remembered not to ask him why he would want to scrape off his fur, but he could tell they still wondered.

"King Edmund?" Remus asked.

Edmund sighed. Perhaps they hadn't remembered after all.

"Yes, Remus?"

"Do you shave your nose, too? Is that why it never has any fur?"

"Don't be such a pup," Romulus growled. "Of course he doesn't shave his nose. Have you ever seen him shave his nose?"

"I'm not a pup," Remus snapped. "I just thought maybe it was something humans do in secret."

Edmund had to hold his razor away from his face so he didn't cut himself while he laughed, and both Wolves grinned up at him, tongues again lolling, happy just to see him happy. Frustrating as they could be, he was glad Peter had assigned the Wolves to him. No matter how grim the circumstances, he couldn't recall a day when they had not at least made him smile.

"No, Remus," he said, holding up the mirror so he could continue shaving. "I don't do any secret–"

He froze, hearing something rustle in the undergrowth behind him. The Wolves immediately flattened their ears and growled low in their throats, and Edmund wished his belt, with his sword and dagger in it, was around his waist and not draped over his pack a few feet away. Perhaps he could still get to it. Before whatever was stalking him could pounce.

"I don't do any secret shaving, Remus," he said, making his voice as casual as possible as he stealthily turned the mirror, scanning the dark trees at his back.

Suddenly the furtive rustling was a noisy crashing and sobbing. He spun, lunging for his weapons, the Wolves crouching beside him, ready to spring. Then suddenly Linnet was in his arms, crying and clinging to him.

"Edmund. Edmund, Edmund. Oh, Edmund."

"Linnet!" He stooped to draw his sword, still keeping one arm protectively around her. "Quick, are you being followed?"

"I–" She swallowed down more sobs. "I do not think so. They were quarreling among themselves, and I do not think they noticed I had gone. At least for a while. I–"

She closed her eyes, trembling as she tried to steady herself, and he laid down his sword so he could put both arms around her. She was dirty and thin and terrified, but she was alive. Bless Aslan, she was alive and free.

"Shh," he soothed. "It's all right. You're safe now. You're all right."

She nodded against his chest, still trembling. "I ran as fast as I was able, and then for a while I got up in the trees where they grow close together and went from limb to limb. Then I saw the stream and went through it for a while so they could not catch my scent."

Edmund patted her back. "Very good. Just what I would have done."

She laughed weakly. "I heard you talking about doing just so when those fell Wolves were chasing you last year. You were telling . . . " She burst into tears again, and her fingers twisted into his damp shirt. "Peter. Oh, please, tell me his is not dead. He cannot be dead. But how can he be alive? They– they hurt him and then they–"

"Shh shh," he murmured against her disheveled hair. "He's alive. He's badly hurt, but the healers are seeing to him. And it may be by now that Lucy has returned with the cordial and has given it to him."

She beamed at him through her tears. "Oh, thank you. Thank you, Edmund." Abruptly, her eyes grew round and she put one hand over her mouth. "Forgive me, King Edmund. I have presumed–"

He threw his head back, laughing, and then kissed her forehead. "I think, after all that has happened, Lady Linnet, you needn't bother with titles. Am I not nearly your brother after all? Or perhaps soon to be?"

She looked away shyly, but he turned her face back to him, studying it.

"They haven't . . . hurt you, have they, Lady Linnet?"

Again she dropped her eyes, but she swiftly shook her head. "Apart from making me walk without much rest and keeping me bound, no." She looked around. "Please, My Lord, is there something to eat?"

"Forgive me, Lady." He rummaged in his pack and brought out some dried meat and bread. "It is not much. We did not light a fire for fear it would be seen."

She shook her head, already taking greedy bites of what he had given her. "It is good." She swallowed and nodded. "Very good."

He got some of the food for himself, and they ate under the watchful eyes of his Wolves. Then he escorted Linnet to the stream.

"Take just a moment to refresh yourself, My Lady, and then we should go back to our camp."

"Will we be going home now?" she asked, grey eyes hopeful. "I need to see–"

"Not yet, no. You need rest, and we would not get far in the darkness. Sleep tonight, My Lady, and we will leave at first light."

"But what if they find us?" She looked back in the direction she had come from. "It is a miracle I found you at all, a miracle that I escaped. They will not be so careless again."

"No, I am certain of that."

The fear in her eyes intensified at his grim pronouncement, and he squeezed her hand, letting his expression soften.

"Do not fear, Lady. Tomorrow we will turn again to Cair Paravel."

She made no more protest as he took her back to camp. While Babur and the Wolves ate the rabbits the Tiger had caught, Linnet told them briefly what she knew of her captors. It was very little.

"They thought I was Queen Lucy," she said, bewildered. "They did not know I was not until just before I escaped."

"And they did not say what they had planned for her?"

"All I know is they said Talfryn would not want her if she lost her beauty."

Edmund's heart lurched. Talfryn again.

"Who is Talfryn, My Lord?" Linnet asked. "Why would he want your sister?"

Babur growled softly and Philip shifted on his feet, but no one said anything.

"Do not let it trouble you, Lady. My sisters are both safe at the Cair, and we will have you back there soon. Sleep tonight, and we will head east tomorrow."

Fed and safe, she was already looking as if she was going to nod off. He didn't have many comforts to offer her, but he coaxed her into laying on his blanket with her head on Philip's saddle. The Wolves insisted on guarding her by snuggling up on either side of her and going to sleep. She smiled at that and slept, too.

Edmund and Philip and Babur took turns keeping watch, but the night was quiet. Soon the sky lightened, and it was dawn again. Edmund had just gone down to the stream to wash when he heard someone call from the other side of the trees.

"We know you are there."

It was a male voice, deep and commanding, one Edmund did not recognize. Almost at once, Babur was at his side, voice low.

"Who is that?"

Edmund shrugged and whispered, "What about Lady Linnet?"

"Romulus and Remus are with her. They know they're to take her away on Philip if there is a fight."

"Good."

"King Edmund?" the voice called. "I know that must be you, skulking there in the trees. Come out. Come out at once."

Without a sound, he and the Tiger crept towards that voice, inching closer and closer until they could see whose voice it was. The dawn light slanted low through the trees, illuminating a group of creatures, a Wolverine and a Satyr, a large Lizard, something that was nearly but not quite a man, and several Centaurs. It was the chief of the Centaurs who was speaking.

"Come now," he shouted, his strong face stern. "I know you can hear me. Bring out the girl."

Edmund glanced at Babur, almost wanting to laugh. He would do nothing of the kind.

"Bring her now," the Centaur demanded. "Do not make me force your hand."

Did this arrogant Centaur think his threats were enough to command Edmund's obedience? He grinned at Babur.

"Wherever you are, King Edmund," the Centaur called, "I know you hear me. I know you see me. Do as I say, or I will certainly make you regret it."

He moved to one side, and Edmund's amusement turned to horror. There, supported by two Centaurs, unable to stand on his own, was Peter.

**Author's Note: Soooo . . . I'd love to know what you think.  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Sixteen

Edmund gripped the hilt of his sword and clenched his jaw so hard he feared the bones might crack. _Peter._

His eyes half closed and his ashen face slack, Peter looked barely alive. His lank hair and battered clothes were fouled with sweat and dirt and blood as were his face and hands. One boot, torn from knee to ankle, gaped open to reveal a deep gash in his shin. His hands, scraped and bruised, hung limply at his sides, and there was just a hint of blood at one corner of his mouth. Only the Centaurs on either side of him kept him upright.

_Peter, you idiot! What have they done to you? Why didn't you stay home? Why couldn't you have just stayed home?_

Babur turned to stare at him, growling softly, and Edmund realized the harsh breathing he heard was his own. He swallowed hard and breathed through his nose.

"Come out, King Edmund," the chief of the Centaurs called. "I am not certain your High King can bear much more. Come out and bring the girl, and I will see he is tended to."

Again Babur growled, and Edmund wanted to do the same. Instead, he studied his enemy as Oreius had taught him. The Centaur was a warrior. That was clear not only from his armor and weapons, but from the way he carried himself, proud and implacable. His hair was long, a darker blond than Peter's, his face strong and darkly bearded, his brows heavy. A Centaur from the race of Aslan's prophets. A Centaur. It was unthinkable. Yet it was so.

"You are certain the Lady Linnet is safe?" Edmund whispered to Babur, and the Tiger nodded.

"The Wolves and the Horse will get her out if need be."

"Good." Edmund stood up, letting himself be seen, but not stepping out of the protective cover of the trees. "Who are you, Centaur, and what do you want?"

The Centaur made a curt bow, a soldier's bow. "My name is Zenon. And, if you value your brother's life, you will do as I say and bring the girl to me. He is in a bad way, and delays are unlikely to improve things for him."

Edmund let the fury in his blood turn cold and looked on those assembled there with as much kingly hauteur as he could muster. "Then hear, Zenon. On your allegiance to the Great Lion, we command you to release our royal brother. Offer us no more violence, and submit yourself to us for just recompense for the wrong you have done us, the Lady Linnet and the High King himself."

The Centaur flicked his tail. "Do not speak of Aslan, human. He has given us His words, and we will follow them. Bring out the girl."

"You know now that the lady is not Queen Lucy. What do you want with her? What do you want with any of us?"

The Centaur glanced at his grinning followers, his expression smug. "You will find out soon enough."

"You dare stand against the might of all Narnia and the Lion and–"

"Bring out the girl!" the Centaur snarled, drawing his dagger and seizing a fistful of Peter's hair. "Or, by Him who sang us into being, I will cut your brother's miserable throat!"

He jerked Peter's head back, wrenching from him a low cry, a cry that was echoed from the trees at Edmund's left.

"Peter!" Linnet dashed out of the forest, her face stained with tears. "No, please, do not hurt him. Please. Let him go. I am coming, let him go."

"Linnet, no!" Edmund darted towards her, determined to stop her before she reached the clearing. "Wait!"

Zenon released his hold on Peter, sheathed his dagger and drew his sword instead. "Take them!"

He galloped towards Linnet and, save only the two who held Peter captive, the others swarmed behind him. With a roar, Babur bounded after Edmund.

"Wait!" Edmund ordered. "Linnet, stop!"

But she would not listen. She was running towards the Centaur.

"No!" One of the Wolves leapt out of the brush. "Come back, Lady Linnet! Come back!"

Edmund reached her first, but she fought against him, digging in her heels when he tried to drag her back into cover.

"Let me go! Let me go! Peter–"

Then Zenon and his accomplices were on them, overwhelming them. The creature that was not quite a man grabbed Linnet by the arm, pulling her away as the Centaur seized Edmund, wrenching the sword from his grasp and holding a dagger to his throat.

"Call them off," Zenon growled. "Now. Or you and the girl both die."

"Go back!" Edmund ordered. "Go back!"

"Stand down!" Zenon commanded his followers.

Babur stood face to face with the Wolverine, both bloodied and snarling but no longer fighting. Romulus and Philip were just on the edge of the clearing, stopped before they got close enough to help.

Remus looked at Edmund in disbelief. "King Edmund, you cannot–"

"Do as I say. Go. Now."

At Edmund's feet, the Lizard gave a snickering hiss, and Remus leapt at it.

"Remus, no!"

Edmund's cry was too late. One of the Centaurs, dark of hair and eye, coldly grave, gave the Wolf a kick with his powerful hind leg. Remus dropped to the ground.

From the edge of the trees, a howl of fury rose, and Romulus bolted forward.

"Romulus, no!" Edmund ordered. "Stay back. Stay back."

With an anguished whine, the Wolf crouched down where he was.

Zenon pressed his blade against his prisoner's throat. "Take the humans," he ordered his followers. "Leave the others."

The Tiger snarled, fangs bared, but Edmund only gave him a warning glance. "Look after them, Babur. Philip–"

"These are free creatures of Narnia," Zenon said. "They are your slaves no longer."

Philip pawed the ground, nostrils wide, the whites of his eyes showing. "We will–"

"Philip!" Edmund shook his head almost imperceptibly, praying the Horse would be wise rather than brave and go for help.

"See that you trouble us no further, Horse," the Centaur ordered. "All of you, go. We have no quarrel with true Narnians."

Babur glared at him and then nudged Remus who stirred slightly in response. But the Tiger said nothing. He merely picked up the Wolf by the scruff of the neck and carried him back to where Romulus and Philip waited. Then the four of them disappeared into the trees.

Linnet struggled against her captor. "Let me go to him!"

Zenon gave a nod, and the near-man released her. At once, she was at Peter's side. He was still supported by two Centaurs, laboring to breathe, unable to lift his head.

"My Lord," she murmured, turning his face up to her, caressing his bruised cheek with tender fingers. "Peter. Peter, do you hear me?"

There was no spark of recognition in his glassy eyes, and she glared at Zenon.

"What have you done to him?" Edmund demanded, pulling free of the Centaur's hold and going to his brother's side as well.

Zenon did not try to stop him. "Nothing. He was given to us so. But it is of no matter."

"Peter?" Edmund put one hand on his brother's forehead, and then looked at Linnet. "He's burning up."

She bit her lip and nodded, fear and worry in every line of her face. Then she turned again to Zenon.

"Let them go. I did as you asked. I am here. I will do whatever it is you wish, but let the Kings go. You said you would."

The Centaur lifted one eyebrow. "Did I?"

His followers snickered, and frustrated tears sprang into Linnet's eyes.

"You said if I was brought to you, you would not–"

"I said I would not cut the so-called High King's throat. I have kept my part of that bargain. I promised nothing more. Argyrus, Terah, tie them."

The near-man, he looked as if he had Sylvan blood in him, pulled Linnet away from Peter and began binding her wrists. The Satyr did the same with Edmund.

"Now come," Zenon ordered when the ropes were secure. "We have wasted too much time with this foolishness. There is much to be done before morning. Maurus, take the girl."

Edmund glared as the dark Centaur, the one who had kicked Remus, heaved Linnet over his shoulder.

The fair-haired Centaur at Peter's right looked at his leader. "Shall I take this one?"

Zenon nodded, and the Centaur lifted Peter into his arms. Peter gave a low cry, his ragged breathing suddenly more rapid, his eyes widening at the sudden pain, and Linnet caught a hitching breath, reaching her bound hands towards him.

Edmund struggled to get to his brother. "You're killing him! At least let us tend to him!"

"Time enough for that when we reach our destination," Zenon said, his expression cold. "Can you keep up, or do I need to have you carried as well? Terah, let him go."

Edmund wrenched out of the Satyr's hold. "I'll keep up."

His face flint, Edmund moved over to his brother, but Peter's eyes were closed now and his head had rolled back against the shoulder of the Centaur who carried him. His breath came in irregular little wheezes, but other than that he was still.

"Peter," Edmund murmured, looking him over more closely now. "Bloody idiot. What did you do?"

During their journey, Peter never stirred, not even when they carried him into an opening in the side of a cliff and to the back of a cave. The fair-haired Centaur laid him down on an untidy pallet on the ground, and the dark one set Linnet down beside him.

"Untie us," Edmund demanded, going to them. "We cannot tend him like this."

Both Centaurs looked to Zenon, who frowned and then nodded.

"Do as he asks. And then do not take your eyes from them."

Once her hands were free, Linnet snatched up a nearby bucket of water and, with a strip torn from her dirty sleeve, began washing Peter's face. Edmund knelt beside her, examining the gash on Peter's leg.

"You know this place?" he said softly, taking surreptitious note of the stores of food and weapons surrounding them.

She nodded and made her own voice low. "They kept me here before. But the leader, Zenon, these are not his headquarters. He came from somewhere else." She patted the cool cloth along Peter's neck and then pressed her hand to his bruised cheek, her forehead puckering. "He is very hot. We must get him home. He needs the cordial."

Edmund squeezed her arm and leaned close to her ear. "I know Philip will go for help. And if Peter left the Cair in the condition he was in, then I don't doubt Oreius came right after him and brought the whole army along as well. Aslan will–"

"You will need these."

With a guilty start, Edmund and Linnet both looked up. The fair-haired Centaur, the one who had carried Peter, stood behind them holding out several clean cloths.

Edmund stood up and took them from him. "Thank you."

"I would not see any creature suffer needlessly."

Not sure how to reconcile that statement with all the death and suffering this Centaur had taken willing part in, Edmund kept his expression mild.

"Your leader said my brother was brought to you as he is now, hurt. Am I allowed to know what happened to him?"

"Talfryn brought him to us," the Centaur said. "They told us he fell from a Gryphon."

"Oh, Peter," Linnet murmured, bringing one of Peter's battered hands to her cheek and then to her lips. "Peter."

Edmund winced at the thought of such a fall. How had Peter survived it? And just how broken inside was he? _Oh, Aslan._

"And what will happen to us now?"

Edmund fixed the Centaur with the cool, piercing look that had long served him well when uncovering truth and meting out justice in Narnia's courts. The Centaur pressed his lips into a hard line and then looked away.

"That is not for me to say."

"It is not for you to idle here with these humans, Aurelius." Zenon loomed over them, brawny arms crossed over his chest. "Your task is to guard them until–"

He broke off at the commotion at the entrance to the cave, his hand going instinctively to his sword hilt. Outside, the Calormene Lizard was hissing at someone to come no closer, but then the near-man, the one called Argyrus, came in and made a flourishing bow.

"There is someone to see you."

Zenon scowled. "Who would come here? Whoever it is, send him away."

"I think you will want to see this one." Argyrus' mouth turned up on one side, and he turned towards the cave entrance. "I pray you, Lady, come in."

Zenon tensed as a Centauress came into the cave, her hooves tapping lightly on the stone floor. Though her hair and tail were dark, her face was fine featured and fair. And as she took in the scene before her, in her dark eyes there was a mixture of fear and concern and anger.

"What is this?" She breathed. "What have you done?"

Zenon set his face into a stern mask. "Demeter."

**Author's Note: Many thanks to Lady Alambiel for her brainstorming help far above and beyond the call of duty.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Seventeen

"Demeter," Zenon repeated.

Demeter looked at the captives, at the golden-haired boy lying there on the ground, struggling to breathe, at the girl sheltering him in her arms, gray eyes defying her to offer him any more hurt, and at the other boy, dark and fiery eyed, who stood protector of them both. Despite what Zenon said, despite what had happened two years ago, she could feel nothing for them but pity. That pity was gone when she turned again to her husband.

"What is this?" she asked him, her voice soft but taut as a bowstring. "I thought you were to remove the humans, not torture them."

"Do not be foolish," he snapped, and then he glanced at the others taking in his every word. "Come with me. Argyrus, Maurus, watch them."

He seized her arm and hurried her out of the cave, not stopping until they reached a grove of trees near a running stream.

She pulled out of his grasp. "What are you doing? I expected nothing like this."

"It is what must be. I told you–"

"You told me you would make the humans leave Narnia, not that you would butcher them!"

"You knew about the killings," he said, his stern expression unchanging. "I told you from the very first."

"Warriors!" She hated the breaking in her voice and the tears that spilled down her cheeks. "You said they were all warriors and that they refused to yield!"

"They were–"

"Women and children! Old men! The lame!" She scrubbed one hand over her eyes. "They were no threat! They could not even run away!"

"Demeter." He cupped her face in both hands, looking deeply into her eyes. "Whatever you have heard–"

"I have seen!" She wrenched away from him. "I have seen with my own eyes! Do not lie to me now, Zenon. How could you, in Aslan's name, order such atrocities? Those prisoners in there, they are hardly more than children themselves."

His laugh was almost a snarl. "Children? They are the Kings of Narnia, Peter and Edmund, and their sister, the Queen Lucy."

"And what have you done to them? The golden one, is he the High King Peter? He's scarcely alive."

"We've done none of them any harm. Talfryn brought the High King to us just as he is."

"Talfryn?" Her forehead wrinkled. "What has he to do with any of this? Is he not the leader of those who have killed and burned and pillaged in Narnia time out of mind?"

Zenon looked away briefly, and when he met her eyes again, his expression was flinty. "We need their help. And they have asked little in exchange."

"What?" she demanded. "What do they want?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and then blew out a heavy breath. "I have agreed to give them the Queen Lucy. In return, they will help us remove the humans from Narnia and agree to leave us in peace."

Demeter put both hands over her mouth, imagining the harrowing fate that awaited the girl. "Zenon, you– you cannot possibly–"

"We cannot stand up to the armies of the Kings without allies. How else are we to carry out the will of the Great Lion?"

They had come to it at last, and she could no longer remain silent.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. "I had another dream."

Again, he responded with a snarling laugh. "Those dreams. What are they but foolishness?"

"How can I ignore them?" she cried, and again her eyes stung with tears. "If you could have seen Him, His face, His pleading eyes. He shook His head, looking at me with such disappointment. 'Daughter, daughter,' was all He said, but I knew what grieved Him. I had allowed all this to happen and said nothing. Did nothing! Zenon, I beg you–"

"They are merely dreams, wife!" Zenon pawed the grass, tearing it up at the roots. "Have I not told you what the Great Lion told us to do?"

She looked down, hands clasped together. "Yes, I know. But why has He told no one else? Why has Stormseer, His prophet, not spoken of this?"

"He–" Zenon's tail flicked. "How do you know he has not? Most likely he is even now spreading the word to all those near Cauldron Pool."

"Then why has he answered none of my messages?"

For a moment, Zenon said nothing. Then his face grew hard.

"What is this, wife? You have sent messages to Cauldron Pool? After I have for so long been your protector, your lover and your friend, am I to believe you no longer trust me?"

"No." She reached out to him with both hands. "Of course not. Of course I trust you. But the dreams I have had–"

"Are only dreams! They are the product of your fears, nothing more. I know this is a hard time for you. It is for all of us. But sometimes unpleasant things must be done, and Aslan calls on us to do them without complaint. For the future of our kingdom and of our children."

She took his hand in both of hers. "For our children, husband, I beg you, stop this. Stop this before it is too late." She pressed his hand against her heart, letting him feel its rampant beat. "For the sake of our coming foal."

"Our coming–" A slow smile spread across his face. "Our foal? We are going to have a foal?"

She nodded, wordlessly pleading for him to heed her at last, and he folded her in his arms, holding her against him as he had so many times before, his lips achingly tender against her cheeks and forehead.

"Our foal," he murmured, laughing softly. "Our colt! For his sake, Narnia shall be cleansed, as the Lion commanded. And Narnia shall be ruled only by Narnians."

And Demeter laid her head against his shoulder and wept.

OOOOO

Edmund had watched the Centauress follow Zenon outside and wondered still who she might be. Friend? Sister? Wife? He could not be certain of anything but that the Centaur was surprised to find her here. For her part, she had seemed shocked by what she had found in his camp. Whether or not this could be used to his own advantage, Edmund was not yet sure.

"Whatever is going through that devious head of yours," Argyrus said, "best forget it. You are going nowhere."

The near-man merely smirked at the prisoners, and then he moved over to a rough table made from some boards laid over barrels and made himself comfortable with his pipe. The dark Centaur joined him, saying nothing as he unsheathed his sword and began cleaning it. There was no getting to the cave entrance except past their watchful eyes.

Edmund knelt beside his brother again and made his voice barely audible. "Any other ways out?"

Linnet shook her head, not looking away from Peter as he lay cradled against her. "When I was here before, I tried to creep about in the back, to see if there was. Argyrus there, the half-Dru, only laughed at me and said I was welcome to explore all I cared to. It is all just solid rock. And even if there were a way–"

She glanced up at Edmund and then back at Peter, and the meaning in her worried eyes was clear. Peter could never withstand such an attempt. Not in the condition he was in.

"Peter," Edmund murmured, pushing the lank hair back from his brother's forehead.

With a sudden gasp, Peter's ragged breathing stopped. Then, just as Edmund's heart clenched, the breathing began again, and the blue eyes fluttered open.

At first those eyes were wide with fear and pain. Then recognition filled them, and there was a slight twitch at the corner of Peter's mouth.

"Ed."

Edmund blinked hard at the stinging in his own eyes. "About time, you great lummox."

"How long? Don't remember. Just–" His eyes went wide again, and his breath quickened as he fought to sit up. "Linnet! Linnet! Ed, where's–"

"Shh." Edmund held him where he was. "Peter. Peter, shh."

Peter grasped his wrist, clinging desperately, but Edmund just held him there. When he finally lay still, Edmund put one finger under his chin and turned his face up, letting him see who held him even now. For a long moment, Peter merely stared. Then, tears pooling in his eyes, he reached up one shaky hand.

"Linnet."

"Shh," she soothed, taking that hand and pressing it to her lips. "I am here, love. I am here."

He somehow managed to draw her hand down, kissing it and then holding it over his heart. Then he turned a little to his side, hiding his face in the crook of her arm, shoulders shaking. She leaned down to him, nuzzling his hair, murmuring gentle comfort, weeping herself.

After a moment, she straightened, and giving Edmund an apologetic little smile, she turned Peter's face up to her again. "How are you feeling, My Lord?"

He brought her hand once more to his lips. "Glad. Very glad."

She smiled, eyes still shining with tears, and Edmund scowled.

"She means where are you hurting?"

Peter shook his head vaguely. "'m fine."

"Liar."

Edmund moved to the end of the pallet so he could examine Peter's leg. The gash in his shin was deep and swollen, and it took Edmund several minutes to remove the ruined boot and push the blood-stiffened remains of the leggings up to Peter's knee. By the time he had done just that much, Peter was clinging to Linnet again, eyes screwed shut, breath coming more harshly than ever.

With a worried glance at Linnet, Edmund grabbed the water bucket, but a look inside told him the water was fouled with the blood and dirt and sweat they had already washed from Peter's body. They'd need fresh water to clean his wounds and for all of them to drink.

He stood up, bucket still in hand, and went to the half-Dru. He seemed to be the one in charge when Zenon was absent.

"We need fresh water."

Argyrus jerked his chin towards the dark Centaur. "Get them some water. The others are seeing to their own tasks."

Edmund wasn't the least bit surprised when the proud creature refused.

"I do not fetch and carry for prisoners."

The half-Dru's mouth tightened around his pipe, but Edmund held up one hand, stopping him before he could make an ill-tempered answer.

"I will fetch it. Just tell me where the stream is."

Argyrus grinned, the pipestem still between his teeth. "Oh, to be sure. Nothing so innocent as a little walk down to the stream, eh? And then on to Cair Paravel? I think not."

Edmund nodded towards the back of the cave. "Do you think I need any other reason to return right away?"

Glancing at Peter and Linnet huddled together on the pallet, the half-Dru grinned once more. "Go ahead. The stream is beyond the trees to the left of the cave entrance. But be very, _very_ wise in your going."

OOOOO

Peter forced himself to take measured breaths, in and out, in and out, waiting for the agony in his leg to dull into something no worse than the burning torment in the rest of his body. He was certain there was a wraith or a demon or something fell piercing his lungs with white-hot irons every time he breathed or moved, but he didn't care. He didn't care. Linnet was here. Wherever they were, she was here and Talfryn was not. Talfryn did not have her. She was here, and Ed–

He opened one eye and then both of them, struggling against the gentle hands that held him.

"Where's Edmund?" His voice came out in a hardly intelligible slur, and he licked his parched lips. "He was here."

"Do not trouble yourself, My Lord." Those gentle hands patted his face, cool and tender. "He merely went for fresh water."

Peter exhaled, easing the pressure on his battered lungs. "Water."

"I know," she soothed, touching a damp cloth to his mouth. "It is coming."

He lay still a moment, trying his best to collect his splintered thoughts. He remembered the spear that had pierced Sher's heart, remembered the noble Gryphon falling from the sky, remembered the rush of dark ground and the laughter of Giants. After that, there was nothing but dim pain and harsh, garbled voices and again that sickening laughter. Nothing until he had opened his eyes to see his brother leaning over him, the usual smirk on his face, and then Linnet looking down on him, her sweet eyes dark with worry and softened with love. Now there were no Giants, only the quiet dimness and the heat he was sure came from his own body.

But Linnet was here, and her hands were tender and cool against his skin. She was here and not at Harfang. Wherever this was, it was not there. And wherever this was, they were safe. Edmund was here, so they were safe.

He nestled closer to her. "How much longer?"

"What is it, My Lord? What do you say?"

He reached up to take the hand that stroked his cheek. "How long until we are home again? The girls will be worried, and I think–" His hold tightened as an unexpected cough racked his body, and it was a long moment before he was able to speak again. "I think one of my ribs might be cracked a little bit. Don't tell Edmund."

"Oh, Peter."

He didn't know why that should make her look as if she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but he merely closed his eyes again, remembering when he had last been at home. He had been trying to ask her a question before everything had gone so horribly wrong, but now that they were together again, now that they were safe and going back to Cair Paravel, perhaps it was a good time to ask. He let his mouth turn up on one side. He'd better do it before Edmund came back with the water, too, if he didn't want to endure a lot of smirking and smug looks.

Linnet touched her fingers to his lips. "What are you thinking that makes you smile, My Lord?"

"That if I were to die here, just as I am, I could ask no more."

Stricken tears sprang to her eyes, and he frowned slightly. What had he said wrong? He was never any good at this love talk, but Linnet had always seemed to understand before, no matter how clumsy his words.

"No," he murmured. "Don't cry, sweetheart. I only– I just want you to always be–"

He broke off when there was a commotion somewhere out of his line of sight, and then Edmund stumbled into view. Of all the rotten luck–

A Centaur shoved Edmund down to his knees next to Linnet, and she clutched Peter more tightly, her breathing suddenly quick and harsh against his ear. Why should she be afraid of a Centaur? Why should she be afraid at all? They were safe, they were together and they were going home. What was there to fear?

"Linnet?" Peter breathed. "Who's making all that noise?"

The Centaur was shouting at someone, someone who was shouting back, and something about that second voice seemed like it ought to be familiar.

_Shall I help you, My Lady?_

It came back to him with searing clarity. That voice and Linnet's sobs had been the last things he'd heard before he had been shoved into the sea and left to drown. Arms flailing, he managed to break Linnet's hold enough to sit up. Something that didn't look quite like a man, probably a half-Sylvan, was arguing with the Centaur. Peter didn't care.

"You." he gasped, fighting the white-hot pain in his ribs. "What are you– doing here? How dare–"

Without warning, everything around him swirled into blackness. He heard Edmund and Linnet both calling his name from somewhere very far away, and then there was nothing.

**Author's Note: Many, **_**many**_** thanks to Lady Alambiel for her brainstorming help and general awesomeness. Otherwise, I would still be sitting at my desk drooling, and this chapter would not be posted. Do let me know what you think!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Eighteen

Demeter watched as the half-Dru shoved the unconscious boy back onto the blankets, back into the sheltering arms of the weeping girl and the younger boy.

"You've killed him!" Demeter cried, looking from Argyrus to her husband.

Zenon glared at his lieutenant. "What have you done, you fool? It is not yet time–"

"Today, tomorrow or the next day, what's it matter?" The half-Dru prodded the injured boy's side with the toe of his boot, eliciting a low groan. "He's well enough for now."

Demeter had to turn away from the three huddled there on the ground. The fair-haired boy was hurt and helpless, and there was no honor in the way Argyrus had treated him. The girl, she was small and delicate looking, obviously pushed past the limit of her endurance just being brought here, and Demeter could not meet her eyes. Two years ago, she had herself looked with such pleading at her own captors and found no mercy.

It was harder still to look at the younger boy. His near-black eyes were blacker still with deep and enduring fury, but he did not direct that at her. Instead, she read in those eyes something more disturbing. He did not speak. His eyes were dark, not golden, but still they pierced through her as had those eyes from her dreams. Eyes that did not condemn but only questioned. Eyes that seemed to know she wanted no part of this.

She had to turn away.

She went to Zenon, clinging to his hands, hiding her face against his neck. "Stop it now," she murmured so low only he could hear. "Stop this. Let them go. We can go into the March and disappear. It won't matter what you've done. We will start again there. Our foal–"

"I am doing this for our foal!" He pushed her back from him, his face stern. "For all the foals! For all of Narnia! We belong here! They do not! Have I not told you? Aslan commanded–"

She shrank back from him, but forced herself to not look away. "If this is Aslan's will, why has he not told us all? Why has Stormseer not given answer to any of my messages?"

Argyrus smirked at her. "That old seer will not be making prophecies ever again."

There was utter silence in the cave. The dark-haired boy sitting at their feet looked straight at Demeter, and again she wanted to hide from his piercing eyes. They were nothing like the Lion's, and yet . . .

"What do you mean?" The Centaur who had been helping the half-Dru moved from his place by the cave entrance, eyes blazing. "What have you done?"

"Leave us, Maurus," Zenon commanded before Agryrus could make answer. "Go see if the others have seen anything untoward. Tell them we will break camp shortly."

With a curt bow, Maurus left the cave. Only Argyrus and the captives were left.

The half-Dru scowled. "Why should we leave now? It will be dark before long. Tomorrow–"

"By tomorrow," Zenon said coldly, "I wish to be at the rendezvous. I sent Talfryn and his people ahead, and no doubt they will be there already. I have no desire to keep any of them in our territories a moment longer than necessary. Besides, we have lost enough time because of your incompetence."

"I have done everything you asked," Argyrus protested. "And more!"

"Yes. It is that 'more' that concerns me. You've bungled everything from the beginning. What did you do to Stormseer?"

The half-Dru shrugged. "It seemed the best way."

"You were to have him kept under watch, not kill him!"

"He would have caused trouble."

"He was a Centaur!" Zenon raged. "One of Aslan's prophets! How are we to convince the Narnians that we have heard from Aslan if we go about murdering His prophets?"

"And what good would it have done if he went about telling them something opposite to what you are telling them?"

Demeter looked at the half-Dru and then at her husband, unable to believe what she was hearing. Zenon would not look at her.

"He could have been brought to our way of thinking, Argyrus," he said, "if you hadn't been so rash."

"No one will know we were involved. I hired mercenaries. It will look as if he was murdered by highwaymen on the road."

Zenon glared at the half-Dru. "On the road?"

Argyrus smirked. "My scouts said he was disturbed that his messages to Cair Paravel were not being answered and went to deliver them himself. I merely made sure that, sadly, somewhere in the Shuddering Wood, he was set upon and killed."

"You–" Demeter gasped. "You had him killed?"

Argyrus lifted one eyebrow. "Surely, Lady, you know why any true prophet of Aslan would have to be silenced now."

"Be quiet," Zenon said, his voice very low.

"Why?" Demeter insisted, her eyes fixed on her husband. "Why should Stormseer have said anything but what you were telling us Aslan said?"

The half-Dru began to laugh. "Why? Because your husband has never–"

He made a sudden gurgling sound, his eyes round and surprised before, with a fitful twitch, he slumped to the ground.

"I said," Zenon repeated, his voice still very low, "be quiet."

Demeter stared at him as he slid his dagger out from between Argyrus' ribs, unable to speak, hardly able to breathe. The girl was huddled against the dark-haired boy now, her face pressed against his shoulder so she could not see the dead half-Dru. The boy had one arm around her and the other around his motionless brother, but his eyes were fixed on Demeter. His eyes–

Again she could not look into them. Somehow they were too like those golden ones, seeing into the stormy depths of her very soul. _Daughter, daughter– _

Her breath came in hard little gasps now, and she put both hands over her mouth, fearing she would be sick. "What have you done?" she breathed, hardly recognizing the savage face of the Centaur standing before her, bloody dagger still in hand. "What have you done?"

His expression softening, he reached towards her. She flinched and, his face again stony, he swiftly wiped his blade on Argyrus' tunic and resheathed it.

"I have done what I must."

She took a step back from him, her hooves echoing in the now-silent cave. "What was he going to say, Zenon? That you had never what? That you had never heard from Aslan? That everything you've said, everything you've done, is a lie?"

"Demeter–"

"Tell me!"

"All right! Aslan never spoke to me! But I know this is what needs to happen. We are Narnians! Those pitiful creatures are not!" He gestured towards the three humans huddled on the ground. "They and their kind do not belong here. We needed no Witch, and we need no Kings and Queens. We are free Narnians, and we rule ourselves."

"We rule ourselves? Like this?" She glanced down at the body of the half-Dru and then back at Zenon. "With murder, husband?"

He clenched his jaw. "He was an incompetent fool. He would have ruined everything before it was all done."

"Zenon, please. I beg you, do not do this. Stop it now. Let the captives go, and take me away to the March. For the sake of our foal."

"And have my colt think his father was a coward, afraid to do what must be done?"

"Better a coward than a fool!"

She gasped when he struck her across the face, and her hand flew to her stinging cheek. He had never struck her before. Not ever.

"Demeter!" Immediately, he pulled her into his arms, not allowing her to back out of his embrace. "Demeter, sweetheart, wife." He cupped her face in both hands and covered her forehead with tender kisses. "Forgive me, I beg you. I– I do not know what could have made me do such a thing. Please, Demeter, forgive me."

She was sobbing now, clinging to him. "I do. I forgive you. I forgive you."

"Shh," he soothed. "It is well. It will all be well. You just must never provoke me in such a way again."

She nestled against him. "I am sorry. I only– Oh, please, Zenon! It is not too late to turn back. We could–"

"What did I just tell you?" he roared, all the softness in his face gone, and he slid his hands from her face to her throat. "I am no coward. I am not one to begin a thing and turn back." His hold tightened as his ice blue gaze bored into hers. "Either you are with me or you are against me."

"Zenon, please." She tugged at his hands, trying to pull them away. "Zenon, you're hurting–"

"Zenon!"

They both turned to see the dark-haired boy was on his feet, looking at her husband with an air of stern command. But before he could speak again, the Centaur Maurus came into the cave. His hooves clattered to a stop when he saw Argyrus' body sprawled on the ground.

Zenon stepped back from Demeter, a subtle warning in his eyes. "He was a traitor, Maurus. He had the seer from Cauldron Pool murdered. He tried to kill my wife as well."

She glanced at the boy, but he only looked back at her, grim and unyielding. Then he pressed his lips together and sat down next to the others.

Maurus was silent for a moment, then he made a slight bow before Zenon. "We are prepared to leave when you give the order."

Zenon nudged the half-Dru's body with one disdainful hoof. "Have this seen to. By the time it is done, we will be ready to leave."

"I will see to it." Maurus scooped up the body and carried it away.

Demeter looked down, drawing deep, calming breaths, willing herself not to tremble. She did not want to watch the dead being taken out, did not want to look at Zenon, did not want to look at the captives there on the ground. Had the boy with the dark hair and the penetrating eyes meant to help her? Unarmed and with no advantage of size and strength against a Centaur warrior, had he meant to challenge Zenon and save her life? Her life and the tiny life she carried?

And Zenon, had he truly meant to– She squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry.

Husband, protector, lover and friend.

"Demeter."

She flinched and then lifted her head. Zenon was holding out one hand to her.

"Come now. I do not want you to trouble yourself. You will see. All this is for the best. For Narnia. For us. For our foal."

"For our foal."

She took his hand and gave him a weak smile. She did not look at the boy.

OOOOO

Lucy stood in her stirrups, straining to see into the low, afternoon sun. "What is it, Bast?"

The Tigress paused and then loped back to her. "If my eyes do not deceive me, it is Philip."

"Philip?" Lucy turned to Oreius and Darreth, beaming. "Then Edmund–"

"He is riderless," Bast said. "One of the Wolf pups is with him."

"One of them?"

Bast nodded. "Only one."

Lucy pressed her lips together. Only one Wolf. No Edmund. Oh, Aslan.

She spurred her horse, and the others were quick to follow.

"Queen Lucy! Queen Lucy!"

The Wolf darted forward, and she realized it was Romulus.

"What happened? Where's Remus? Where's Edmund?"

"Remus was hurt!" the Wolf yipped. "But Babur is taking care of him."

Bast narrowed her eyes. "Babur found you then. Is he injured?"

"No," Romulus said, "but King Edmund got taken when Lady Linnet ran out of the forest!"

"Taken?" Oreius looked from the Wolf to the Horse. "What happened, Philip? Who took them?"

Philip tossed his head and blew out his breath. "Centaurs."

"Centaurs?" Lucy and Oreius said at once.

The General's expression turned hard. "Where are they?"

"We can take you to where they were," Philip said. "But I'm sure they've moved on. We would have been here sooner, but there are Giants in the forest, and we did not want to be seen."

Oreius nodded grimly. "Yes, we are aware of them. The High King–"

"He needs your cordial, Queen Lucy!" Romulus yipped. "You need to hurry! Hurry!"

Lucy twisted her horse's reins in both hands. "They have Peter, too?"

Philip nodded. "He looked very bad, My Queen. The Lady Linnet managed to escape from the ones who took her and found us in the forest, but then the Centaurs came and said they would kill the High King if she did not show herself. Before King Edmund could stop her, she ran out to them. They captured him as well. We tried to fight them all, but there were too many. King Edmund said for us to go, and we knew we'd need help to get them back, especially with Remus hurt."

Romulus growled low in his throat.

"Very well," Oreius said. "We will move out at once. I need to let my Captains know we will be moving further ahead and not be making camp any time soon. They will have to follow as quickly as possible. Bast, if you would–"

"I can take the message, General." Darreth moved closer to the Centaur, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "Perhaps I can be of some use after all."

Oreius gave him a curt nod. "If you like, My Lord. Speak to Captain Bondir."

"Then catch up with us," Lucy added. "Hurry."

"I will, Your Majesty."

The Terebinthian urged his horse into a trot and disappeared into the trees. The rest of them hurried forward, following Philip and, further ahead, Romulus. Darreth caught back up to them before sunset, and by the next midday, the Wolf brought them to a cold-running stream near the entrance to a cave.

"Here!" he barked. "They were here!"

Bast nodded, nostrils wide. "My King, King Edmund, the Lady. Other creatures. Centaurs." Her green eyes flattened. "The dead."

"Dead?" Lucy felt her heart lurch. "It isn't–"

"Some kind of Sylvan, Queen Lucy," the Tigress assured her. "Neither of your brothers."

"But I think you will recognize this," Darreth said, picking up something from a bush near the stream.

He laid it in Lucy's hand, and tears filled her eyes. It was a little golden pendant with three runes etched into it. _His and not my own_. If Peter was hurt, it was likely Edmund who had left it for them. They were on the right track.

**Author's Note: I'd love to know what you think, especially what you think will happen next. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Nineteen

Susan sighed as she pressed her seal into the hot wax. How many was it now? The Tisroc (may his meddlesome plots be confounded forever) was becoming more and more insistent. It had taken every bit of her charm and diplomatic skill to convince his emissaries that the failure of the High King to appear in public for such a long while was due merely to his exerting himself beyond his strength before his injuries sustained in Ettinsmoor were sufficiently healed and that the absence of the Just King and the Valiant Queen was due to their being called away on matters of importance to the state of the kingdom, matters to which they were both well able to attend. Since then, the ruler of Calormen had sent her a number of solicitous, prying missives offering her aid and guidance as she labored alone under the heavy weight of government, "a weight that such delicate shoulders were never meant to bear."

If she hadn't been so worried about her brothers and sister and Linnet and about what was happening where they were, the whole thing would have been funny. As if she would ever admit Narnia's present vulnerability to her greatest enemy. In her own fashion, as much as Edmund and Lucy, as much as Oreius, she was defending her kingdom and her family. A misstep on her part would prove disastrous for both.

She tossed the letter into the basket for the courier to pick up and then turned to the next matter at hand, a delicate situation with the Seven Isles, something Peter and Edmund had been trying to sort out for several months. Propping her chin on one hand, she began to read the latest report the Raven scout had brought back.

"Your Majesty! Queen Susan!"

She looked up to see Mr. Tumnus hurry through the open door, blue scarf askew and cloven hooves tapping urgently on the marble floor. She was on her feet at once.

"Have you heard from Edmund? Lucy?"

"No, Queen Susan," the Faun panted, "but you have a visitor who says he must see you right away."

She pursed her lips. "If it is that popinjay from the court at Tashbaan–"

"Forgive me, Lady," said a deep voice, the words quiet and yet rich and resonant, "but my message is most urgent."

"Aslan's prophets are always most welcome to Cair Paravel." Susan made a deep and reverent curtsy to the solemn golden-brown Centaur. "Greetings, Stormseer."

"Hail, Aslan's Gentle Queen."

His silver eyes serene, the seer made a grave bow, but when he lifted his head again Susan noticed the bruise and freshly stitched cut almost buried in the thick hair at his temple and the bandage around his right foreleg. Seeing that he had been injured was almost as disturbing as his presence here in Cair Paravel.

"You are hurt," she cried, reaching towards him. "We should have one of the healers–"

"It has been seen to, Lady. My attendants are skilled in such matters."

Mr. Tumnus looked from him to Susan, his soft brown eyes anxious.

"Thank you, Mr. Tumnus," she said. "We do not need anyone at present."

With a bow, the Faun backed out of the room.

"What happened?" Susan asked once he had shut the doors behind him, looking over the scraped place on the Centaur's flank. "Why have you come?"

"Over the past while, I have sent several vital messages to the High King," Stormseer said, "but I received no reply. I felt an urging from the Great Lion to come to you myself, but it seems there were those who were not of His mind."

Susan's eyes widened. "Someone tried to stop you."

"Two of my Fauns were injured, but the three highwaymen were killed, may Aslan give them mercy. I cannot think they had reason to attack us except to prevent us reaching Cair Paravel."

"To keep you from giving us Aslan's message."

The Centaur gave another sedate bow. "Indeed. We carried nothing of value and offered them what little we had, but they did not come to rob, only kill." His silver eyes narrowed. "I hear such things have been happening throughout Narnia with increasing frequency. Is this why I do not find your Kings and the Valiant Queen in residence?"

In spite of herself, tears stung her eyes as she told him everything that had happened. When she was finished, the seer merely gave another of his imperturbable nods and handed her the scroll he carried.

"Here is the word of the Great Lion to his chosen Sovereigns."

She unrolled it and read the illuminated letters.

_Many will heed the tinkling of cymbals and the roar of sounding brass and not harken to the whisper in the wind. They give ear to those who speak in My Name those things I have never said, believing what seems right in their own eyes and disdaining My truth. But know that what I have in past time spoken, I speak now and forever. I know the end from the beginning. I do not change. I do not repent the callings I have made. I do not turn from the cry of the innocent. I do not forsake my own. I do not change. I do not change._

Susan read it through twice, and then looked at the seer, brow wrinkled. "This tells us nothing."

There was as near a smile on Stormseer's face as she had ever seen. "Lady, it tells us everything."

"But what are we to do?"

"The knowing is far more important than the doing, Gentle Queen."

"But we know nothing!"

"We know this," the Centaur said, his words a low rumble in his broad chest. "He is."

Susan only stared at him. What good was this so-called prophecy? She needed guidance and wisdom, not platitudes. Linnet had been dragged away to be given to the Giants. Peter was severely injured and was hurling himself into danger to find her and bring her home. Edmund had precious little to go on to find either of them and Lucy even less than he, and all Aslan could tell them was that He does not change?

"But, Stormseer–"

The Centaur lifted one hand to silence her. "Know, Gentle Queen, that He is."

Shoulders slumped, she looked at the scroll once more. _I do not change. I do not forsake my own. I do not change. I do not change._

She had been a Queen now for half her lifetime, and all that while, when danger and sorrow and fear had surrounded her and all she loved, she had always found it so. He did not forsake His own. It seemed thin hope just now, but it was all she had.

OOOOO

"I know this place," Edmund whispered.

He had recognized it when it had come into view, a long way off. The Centaur Zenon had brought him and Linnet and Peter from Argyrus' cave to his own tent, large and regal, erected at the top of a hill, one of two hills with a valley between. In that valley stood the ruins of a castle long abandoned, a castle once fortified with ice and fear. Though the Witch was dead and her century-old ice melted, it seemed this place still held some remnant of her evil, something that called to those who, as she had, set themselves against Aslan Himself.

Edmund could still hardly believe it. A Centaur and, it seemed, his whole herd and many others turned from Aslan were gathered here. No, it wasn't likely they all had turned. They had been deceived by this Zenon, told that Aslan had commanded that Narnia be purged of all humans, that He had repented of ever bringing Edmund and his brother and sisters here to rule. How little did they know the Great Lion if they so easily believed these lies. How little did they know Aslan's High King if they thought his rule was something to be feared and shunned.

Edmund looked at his brother lying with his head on Linnet's lap, still motionless and scarcely breathing. Whether it was for his love, his family or his subjects, Peter was always willing to give everything he had to see they were safe and well cared for. How many times had he been near death for the sake of someone he felt was his responsibility? Did these rebels really believe this Zenon could care for them as deeply and selflessly as did their own High King?

Edmund went to them and sat down, whispering more to himself than to Linnet, "I know this place."

Linnet glanced towards the narrow line of sunlight admitted by the slight opening in the tent. "Where are we? Is there anyone–"

"No. No one will help us here. It's been mostly deserted since right after we came to Narnia, after Beruna."

"After the Witch was killed." Linnet's eyes were round. "Peter told me about what happened back then. This is where her castle was?"

"In the valley below us," Edmund said. "We had some trouble there a few years ago, too. Peter and I had always meant to have the ruins torn down so there wouldn't be a gathering place for those who would follow in her footsteps, but we never got around to it. Now I wish we had."

Again, Linnet looked towards the tent flap, and he looked, too. From what he could hear and the little he could see, the mob outside was growing by the hour. Besides the Centaurs, there were a number of Dwarfs and Satyrs, Bear and Dryads and Dogs and creatures of all sorts. Edmund was certain he had spotted a Hag and a Werewolf on the fringes of the crowd, too. And, under the tall canopy that sheltered the banqueting table, he had seen a number of Giants. One of them had to be Talfryn, though he had had only a glimpse before he and Linnet and Peter were imprisoned in this tent and, even at that, he had not been close enough to the Giants to be sure.

"They are merry enough," he said grimly when there was yet another roar of laughter from the direction of the table.

It was the laughter of many kinds of Creature, but booming over all of it was the laughter of the Ettins. Peter's slack face suddenly twisted into a grimace, and his breathing quickened.

Linnet drew him closer, making soft soothing sounds against his ear until he calmed again. Then she looked at Edmund.

"Who is out there, My Lord? What do they mean to do to us?" Her lips trembled and she pressed them tightly together. "Kill us? They've been so bold as to kill one of Aslan's seers, why not His Kings?"

"It would seem so." Seeing the stricken look on her pale face, he put his arms around her and Peter both. "But we mustn't give up. The blond Centaur, the one called Aurelius, he seems to want to do what's right. If we could convince him he's being deceived, it may be that he will help us. Zenon's wife–"

"How terrible for her." Linnet touched her fingers to Peter's white lips. "To love someone so much and then find he is nothing like you thought. How can she stay with him after he struck her like that and killed someone before her face? And she had just told him about their foal!"

"It is hard to say, Lady, what she might do. I think she, too, is more deceived than wicked. But is she strong enough to break from him and do what is right? But we mustn't give up hope. Whatever they mean to do, they're not ready to do it yet. If they merely wanted us dead, they could have killed us back in the cave. As long as we are alive, we have a chance."

She was silent for a moment, eyes closed, cheek pressed against Peter's hair, and then she looked up at Edmund. "But they do not mean to kill me, do they? They still mean to pretend I am the Queen Lucy."

"That may be so."

She lifted her chin. "Who is Talfryn, My Lord?"

Edmund clenched his jaw, and from outside the tent there came another burst of discordant laughter. "Lady Linnet, I–"

"Tell me."

"He is the King of the Giants."

Linnet's face went white. "King of– Oh, no. No, no, please. Why? Why would they–?"

He held her a little closer. "Talfryn rules because the human blood mingled into his line years ago gave his ancestors the wit to seize power and hold it. The larger Giants, the true Ettins, are too stupid to truly be a threat. But the smaller ones from Harfang, especially the ones of the royal line, they are smarter. If he can bring more of that human blood to the royal family, especially if it is royal blood, then his reign will be more secure. All of the Giants will follow him."

A tremor ran through Linnet's body. "No. It is too horrible." She turned desperate eyes to him. "I will not let them. If Zenon tells this Talfryn I am the Queen Lucy, I will tell him the truth. Then, even if he kills me for it, it would still be better."

Edmund shook his head. "Zenon will merely say you are lying to try to get him to release you. Talfryn has never seen Lucy. No doubt all he knows is that she is fair haired. Like you."

She dropped her head, and he saw her tears fall into Peter's lank hair.

"Shh." Edmund had left his own by the stream near the half-Dru's cave, a sign to whoever might be looking for them, so he tugged at the chain around Peter's neck until he got hold of the little pendant it carried, and then he pressed it into her hand. "Remember whose we are."

She clung to the pendant and to Peter. Edmund clung to all three of them.

OOOOO

It was just past nightfall. Demeter stood as she had most of the afternoon watching her husband and his lieutenants feasting and drinking with these odious Giants, swapping stories of hunts and wars and victories, of conquest, blood and death. Their King was especially disgusting. Though he was smaller than the others, not even twice the size of a man, he was just as slovenly and crass as his followers. She didn't like the look in his beady eyes when he spoke of tomorrow's ceremonies and at last getting his Queen. That poor helpless girl would be given no mercy. Not now and not in Harfang. Yet Zenon had only smiled and promised the Giant he would not be disappointed.

Husband, protector, lover and friend. Oh, Zenon. Zenon!

She put her hand to her cheek, still feeling the sting of his slap and the terror when he had put his hands around her throat. Her dreams of the Great Lion had been especially vivid last night, and as if a veil had been torn from her eyes, she saw. She saw.

When the revels were at their height, and song and laughter filled the night, she stole into the forest and headed east to Cair Paravel.

**Author's Note: So what do you think now? Do let me know.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty

"But where _is_ she?" Ada wailed for what must have been the hundredth time. "What good is a seer if he doesn't see?"

"Shh!" Susan glanced back towards the door that led to the chambers where Stormseer and his attendants were staying, thankful to find it closed. "He's told us everything he's going to at this point. Now we have to trust Aslan with them. I suppose if we're supposed to do anything, He will tell us."

She grabbed the waiting woman's plump arm before she could turn back to Stormseer's quarters and demand a detailed account of Lady Linnet's whereabouts. Susan wanted to do as much herself, worried about her brothers and sister and what might be happening to them. Edmund and Lucy could take care of themselves, of course, but Linnet was still very new to Narnia and knew little of its inhabitants and how to deal with them. And Peter– She remembered when they had first brought Peter up from the beach, hardly conscious but struggling to go after Linnet himself, the stubborn fool, and then sneaking away just minutes before Lucy came home with the cordial that would have healed him.

_If he comes home alive_, Susan had told herself more than once, _I'm going to kill him_.

"But Queen Susan–"

"Ada!" Susan pressed her lips together, took a deep breath, and then lowered her voice. "I know you're worried. We're all worried. But there is nothing we can do now but wait. Lucy and General Oreius have already taken most of the army to go look for them. Edmund has taken his scouts to look for them as well as alerting his considerable network of spies to the situation. Everything that can be done has been done. Our responsibility is to see things don't fall apart here while they're gone." She managed a bit of a smile. "It may be that Aslan will give Stormseer another message soon. We must be patient."

"But Queen Susan–"

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

Susan and Ada both turned to see Mr. Tumnus hurrying up to them, his little hooves tapping on the marble floor. He bowed when he reached Susan's side.

"Forgive the interruption, My Queen, but I can bear it no longer. May I know what news the Seer brings?"

Susan sighed. "He tells us nothing of the Lady Linnet or of Peter and Edmund."

The Faun's forehead wrinkled. "Nothing of the Queen Lucy or our General?"

"Nothing. He says we must trust Aslan to be who He says He is and to care for His own."

She forced a smile. It sounded simple, just do nothing, but it was maddening. No wonder her brothers and sister always wanted to be out there doing something. It was so much easier than this infernal waiting.

Mr. Tumnus still frowned. "But Queen Susan–"

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

Barely keeping herself from shrieking, Susan whirled to face this new voice. Then her glare turned to a smile of relief and welcome.

"Chip!"

The little Swallow fluttered and swooped above her head. "Hurry, Queen Susan! Hurry! They need help! They need help!"

She held out one hand to give him a place to perch. "Tell me your news. Quickly now."

"Have you found Lady Linnet?" Ada asked, hands clasped in supplication.

"What of the Kings?" Mr. Tumnus shifted from hoof to hoof. "What of the Queen Lucy?"

"Give him a chance to tell us," Susan snapped. "What has happened, Chip?"

"We followed them!" Even though he was no longer flying, the little Swallow still fluttered his blue-black wings. "We followed them a long, long time, the ones who took the lady."

"But did you find _her_?" Ada wailed.

"She came out of the forest and found us,"Chip said. "I saw when I was scouting overhead. She ran away and found us. And King Edmund was all ready to bring her home when some Centaurs came and said for her and King Edmund to come out or they would kill King Peter!"

"Peter!" Susan briefly closed her eyes and drew a calming breath. "Peter is alive?"

"He was, Queen Susan," Chip piped. "But he couldn't stand up very good. And then the lady ran out of the woods and King Edmund tried to stop her, and those Centaurs got both of them, too!" He hopped and fluttered even more now. "I have to get some help! I have to get the General to bring soldiers to rescue them!"

"The lady and both the Kings as well? Oh, whatever shall we do? Rogue Centaurs? It is unheard of! Not in Narnia!" Mr. Tumnus tugged at his horns as if trying to hold himself up under such a weight of despair. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

Her mouth in a tight line, Susan glared him into silence, and then she turned back to the Swallow. "What else do you know, Chip? Did the Centaurs say why they wanted the lady? Or what they were going to do with the Kings?"

"The Giants want her," the Swallow chirped. "The Giant King wants to take her and– and _marry_ her!"

Obviously the little Bird had no idea what such a marriage would involve, but he seemed to have picked up on the horror of the situation all the same.

"So it's what Edmund thought then." Susan frowned. "What about my brothers? Do you know why the Centaurs want them?"

Chip shook his head. "But they took them and the lady away. As soon as I saw that, I thought I should come get the General! I need to hurry!"

"You should have seen him on your way back," Susan said. "They were not far behind Peter."

"I didn't see them," Chip insisted. "I just flew straight here. I didn't see anybody."

"Oh, my poor lady. Giants. Giants! My poor lamb!" Ada was weeping now, her face buried in her apron. "My poor, poor Linnet."

"The lady and the Kings and now the Queen Lucy and the General and all the army lost as well." Mr. Tumnus moaned, and he rocked back and forth, still tugging at his horns. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

"Stop it at once!"

Three pairs of eyes blinked at Susan in the sudden silence.

"The army is _not_ lost, Mr. Tumnus. What a very silly thing to say!"

The Faun blushed, dropped his hands to his sides, and looked rather ashamed.

"I'm sure Chip, flying southeast to get here as quickly as possible, just didn't see them. It's likely they're nearly where you last saw the Kings, Chip. Can you find that place again and see what is happening now?"

The Swallow nodded eagerly. "I know just where it is, Queen Susan! I'll find the army and tell them where it is and then bring you back a report!"

"Very well. Off you go!"

Susan tossed him into the air and he darted out the window and was gone. Then she put her arm around Ada's shaking shoulders and took Mr. Tumnus's hand.

"This won't do, you know," she said, giving them both a gentle smile. "All this fretting isn't doing anyone a bit of good. We'd do better to remember that Aslan knows where Linnet and Peter and Edmund and Lucy and all the others are."

_I do not change. I do not forsake my own. _

She nodded to herself, remembering the words the Seer had brought, and then she linked arms with Ada and Mr. Tumnus.

"After all He's done before, I don't think He will forget them now."

And as she led them down the corridor, she was certain she heard a low, rich chuckle and then the closing of a door.

OOOOO

"General Oreius."

Lucy started at the low growl suddenly beside her and then exhaled audibly. "Bast. What is it?"

The Tigress bowed. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. General, there is someone headed this way in great haste. Not someone I have ever encountered before. There may be no danger, but with all that has happened, I thought it best you knew before the stranger reaches us."

Oreius nodded. "A man? Alone?"

Bast shook her head. "One of your own kind, General, but, yes, alone and in what seems a great hurry."

"And he did not see you?"

The Tigress's green eyes narrowed. "Of course not, but it is not–"

She broke off at the sound of someone moving through the brush. Oreius made a curt motion for them all to take cover, and Lucy barely had a chance to pull Darreth behind a tree next to her before the rustling in the undergrowth grew louder. Then there was a rapid clip-clop of hooves.

Lucy's eyes widened when, instead of a Centaur warrior, a fine-featured Centauress came down the path. She was unarmed.

Oreius stepped out of cover, making her shy back a step or two.

"What do you want?" she asked, seeing Lucy and Darreth and Bast now surrounding her. "I have nothing of value."

"What herd do you hail from, Lady?" Oreius asked, his voice unthreatening though he kept one hand on his sword. "And where do you go?"

She shifted on her delicate hooves. "You must not delay me. Please. I have urgent business."

"What business?" Oreius asked. His voice was still low and calm, but he took a step closer to her, making her shrink back from him.

She looked pleadingly to Lucy. "You are human. Please, I must get to Cair Paravel. For the sake of the Kings and Queens and all your kind, I must find help. Before it is too late."

"What is it?" Oreius took her arm, making her cringe away from him. "What has happened?"

"Don't!" Lucy scowled at him. "You're scaring her."

He immediately released the Centauress. "Forgive me, Lady. I mean no disrespect."

Lucy smiled at her, holding out one hand. "Don't be afraid. I am Queen Lucy. Please tell us what has happened."

The Centauress's eyes flashed fire. "You do not speak true. You are not the Queen Lucy. If you cannot help me, if you cannot even speak plainly, at the very least let me pass. I tell you, it is a matter of life and death. For you and for all your kind." She glanced at Oreius. "And for those who help you."

Lucy looked pleadingly to the General. "Oreius–"

"You are Oreius?" the Centauress said, her dark eyes wide. "General Oreius of Cair Paravel?"

He inclined his head. "I am, Lady. And I assure you this is the Queen Lucy. Why do you say it is not?"

She bit her lip, looking from him to Lucy and then back again. "I was– I was told the girl was the Queen Lucy. That the boys were the Kings Peter and Edmund. Zenon–" She dropped her head into her hands. "I do not know what to believe anymore."

"You've seen my brothers?" Lucy asked, unable to keep the quaver out of her voice. "Are they all right? Are they alive? There is a lady with them? Is she well? Please, tell us."

Darreth slipped his hand into hers, calming her. "One question at a time, Your Majesty."

Lucy nodded, and Darreth turned to the Centauress.

"Please do not be afraid," he said, a gentle understanding in his tone and in his eyes. "No one here will harm you. We will not allow anyone to harm you."

Trembling, the Centauress glanced at Oreius again, and he, too, softened his expression.

"He speaks true, Lady. We will not harm you. But, please, tell us what you know of our Kings and the Lady Linnet."

"I must know about my brothers," Lucy said. "Please, Lady . . . ?"

"Demeter. My name is Demeter. My herd is west of here. The Kings and the other lady are with them. They are alive, though the boy with the golden hair, the older one, he is very badly hurt. You must not delay me, please."

"Please take us to them," Lucy begged. "I have a cordial that can heal even the worst injury, but we must get it to Peter in time. Please."

The Centauress shook her head, frantic. "No, Queen Lucy, you must not. Of all people, you must not go. Zenon would surely take you prisoner, a pawn in his game."

"Who is this Zenon?" Oreius demanded. "And what does he want with our Kings and Queen?"

"Zenon is the leader of my herd," Demeter said, and there was shame in her down-turned eyes. "And he is my husband."

OOOOO

Peter struggled in the darkness, half stifled with heat, limbs sluggish and uncooperative. From somewhere above him, he heard garbled voices, the slow, thick laughter of Giants and Linnet crying for help. No, Linnet wasn't crying. She was here with him, he remembered that much. He was lying safe in her arms and Edmund was standing watch over them both, confound him for interrupting Peter's proposal. Well, he'd work up his courage again, once he and Linnet were alone. Once he was awake and out of the darkness.

He heard her crying again, calling for help, and he tried to turn away from the sound.

_Nightmare. Just a nightmare. Not real. Not real._

His rapid breathing tore at his battered ribs and he tried his best to slow it. He'd had this nightmare in some form or other over and over again, Linnet as Talfryn's plaything, Linnet heavy with his misbegotten spawn. It wasn't true. It would pass. It would fade. Like all the others, it would fade.

"–away from him."

That was Edmund's voice, and then there were others, angry, stern, mocking, all swirled together, voices of Giants, voices of Centaurs, and Linnet's pleas. And then Peter felt something take hold of him, making the pain roar through his body as it shoved him to the ground. With a gasp he opened his eyes and stared right into the leering face of a Giant.

"Time to wake, little King. Time to say goodbye."

Peter shrank back, fumbling for a weapon that wasn't there, his breath coming now in piercing, panting gasps. Oh, Aslan, this was no nightmare.

"Peter!" Linnet cried, and he was able to turn his head enough to see her clasped to the Giant's side, struggling to free herself. "Peter!"

"Do not worry, little King," Talfryn chortled. "I will take good care of her when she is my Queen."

He dragged her shrieking out of the tent, and Peter could only lay there struggling to follow after her, struggling to stand, to move, to breathe.

"Bring them both," another voice said.

In one agonizing motion, Peter was lifted off the ground, carried like a child in a Centaur's iron-muscled arms. Beside him, wrists tightly bound, was Edmund. He was guarded by another Centaur, and Peter could tell by his disheveled clothes and split lip that he had not stood quietly by when the Giant King had come for Linnet.

"Ed," he breathed. "Linnet–"

Grim faced, Edmund gave him only a slight shake of his head, his taut expression warning Peter into silence as they were marched outside. Whatever came now was in the paws of the Great Lion.

Peter winced as the sunlight struck him, blinking hard to force his eyes to focus. Even then he thought he must still be dazzled by the brightness at the surreal scene before him.

They were at the top of a hill, looking down at a ruined castle. Surrounding the ruins and filling the hillside were hordes of creatures, Centaurs and Giants, Dwarfs and Satyrs and Fauns, Naiads and Dryads and Nymphs and all varieties of Animal and even some of the Fell, he was certain. All of them were looking up at the majestic looking Centaur standing there.

When he saw Peter and Edmund, he lifted his hands for silence. "Now, my true Narnians. Now is the hour we have waited for. Now you shall see the last of these Usurper Kings!"

And the creatures on the hillside roared their approval.

**Author's Note: Please forgive me for not having posted in so long. My real life has gotten crazy busy. But never fear! I'm not by any means abandoning this story. I hope you're enjoying it so far. Do tell me what you think!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-One

"Your husband?" Oreius pressed his lips together, knowing the little Mare was frightened enough already. "Please, Lady," he said more gently, "tell us why he wants our Kings and Queen. Is he behind the attacks on the human settlements?"

The Centauress nodded, the shame in her eyes now joined by tears. "He's told our herd and others who follow him that the Great Lion has repented of bringing humans to Narnia. He says it is Aslan's will for them to be purged from the land."

Lucy glanced at Oreius, bewildered. "No. That would never be Aslan's way. Even if He were to decide our time here is over, He would not end our reign by this means. Not by the slaughter of innocents."

"No, My Queen." Oreius turned again to Demeter. "And your people believe this? You believed this?"

Head down, the Centauress nodded. "My husband is very persuasive, General."

Clearly those who had been deceived did not know the Great Lion well. Even if they called themselves His, they had not troubled to be close to Him, to know His true character and His ways. It was so easy to be led astray. But there would be time to discuss such matters another day. The damage was done, and there was precious little time to see it did not worsen.

"He means to take Narnia for himself," Demeter said. "I can see that now. Please, if you are who you say you are, Queen Lucy, come with me. Come at once." She looked at Oreius, dark eyes pleading. "Your army is with you? Bring them. Oh, hurry, please!"

Oreius nodded. "Lead us to them, Lady. As quick as you are able."

They hurried back into the forest, back the way the Centauress had come, and for a long while there was nothing but the sound of hoofbeats and the padding of paws.

Eventually, Darreth moved his mount closer to the Centauress. "He did that."

It wasn't a question.

The Mare's face reddened and she put a slim hand to her bruised throat.

"I know how it is," Darreth said. "I know how it is to trust someone, to love someone, and have him convince you that just a little bit of wrong is worth the good it will bring. To realize later that he's used you and betrayed you." There was something gentle and understanding in his expression. "I know, too, there's mercy and forgiveness to be found once you turn from that wrong. From Aslan and from the Kings and Queens."

She glanced at Oreius as if for confirmation.

"I have never found my Sovereigns ungrateful or unwilling to forgive, Lady," the General said. "Not in the face of true repentance. They strive as best they are able to follow the Great Lion in that."

"Thank you," she murmured, and then she drew a shaky breath. "I do not want to bring my foal into the sort of world my husband is determined to bring upon us."

Lucy pulled up closer to her. "A foal!"

"For the sake of my little one, My Queen. I could not let this happen."

Lucy turned to Oreius. "We have to hurry. She's been through too much already to go on much longer."

"Lead us to the place, Lady," Oreius said, quickening his pace, "and we will ask no more of you."

"I am not tired," she said, though her face was pale and drawn and there were dark shadows under her eyes. "Come. This way."

Romulus ran ahead and then back to the group. "What about Remus, Queen Lucy? He needs your cordial. I can take you to him. It's not far now."

Bast growled softly. "Babur will take care of him, I'm sure. He was . . . well when you saw him last?"

The Wolf nodded. "We'll be there soon. Hurry."

He darted into the forest and the others followed. A short time later, he gave a yip and a brief howl. "Here! Queen Lucy, they're here!"

In a little clearing, they found Babur and Remus. The Tiger was lying down with the Wolf nestled against him. Remus lay with his head lolling to one side, his breathing shallow and shaky and his right eye swollen shut. There was blood matted into the fur on the right side of his face, blood from a deep, curved gash in his skull.

His brother ran to him and nudged him carefully. "Remus?"

The other Wolf whimpered faintly and did not stir.

Romulus looked up at Lucy, yellow eyes pleading, but she was already off her horse and had the cordial in her hand. She poured one precious drop into Remus's mouth, and then there was a moment of breathless silence. An instant later, Remus took a deep breath and blinked hard. The swelling in his eye was gone. All that was left of the gash in his head was the last of the blood on his fur.

He leapt to his feet with a bark. "Romulus!"

The Wolf brothers nudged noses.

"Come now," Oreius said, glancing up at the sun. "We must hurry before we lose our light. Which way now, Lady Demeter?"

"Come."

The Centauress turned back into the forest and soon they were on the path leading west once more. The two Tigers fell into step side by side.

"Bast?" Babur said after a while, his voice low.

She glanced at him, huffed, and then turned her eyes to the path again.

The Tiger then looked up at Oreius, but the General could give him no consolation. Orders were orders for a reason. If he lost his High King, his golden colt, because Babur was lax in guarding him, it was not something he could forgive. He could never forgive himself if he lost both his colts and the Lady Linnet because all of his safeguards were not safe enough. _Oh, Aslan, let us be in time._

OOOOO

"Bring them to me! Bring me the Usurper Kings!"

There on the hilltop above the remains of the Witch's castle, there with a host of followers from throughout Narnia, the majestic Centaur Zenon stood, hands raised as his would-be subjects howled and growled and squealed their adulation.

Peter swayed as Aurelius, the golden Centaur carrying him, set him on his feet. Fire shot through his injured leg. He would have fallen if the Centaur had not held him upright. Pain. Pain with every motion, with every breath, with every thought. What a fool he was to have let things come to this and all for careless, fateful decision, for wanting nothing more than a moment alone with his beloved Linnet.

He could see her now, her tear-stained face pale, her eyes full of grief and terror as they met his. She looked small and fragile in the grasp of Talfryn, King of the Giants, a porcelain doll in the hand of a careless child. How he had failed her. He had surrendered her not to death but to living death, to desperation and endless torment, a nightmare come to horrific life.

"Steady," Edmund murmured beside him.

"Oh, Ed."

Peter gave him only a brief glance before he looked away again. Another failure. Despite his battered face and bound hands, he stood tall at Peter's side, captive but unbowed. He'd been captured because Peter had been foolish, because Peter had been lax, because no matter how stupid Peter was, Edmund would always be there for him. And now Edmund was going to die because of it. He would die just like all those Zenon had already killed because their High King had not protected them. Failure.

_Please, Aslan, it can't end like this. Save them. If I am to come to Your country, save them. Please. There's nothing I can do, nowhere to turn but to You. I beg you. _A tear trickled hot down the side of his face. _I beg you. If we are all meant to come to You now, let it be so, but please, please do not leave my Linnet to Talfryn. Oh, Aslan– _

"See now, my true Narnians!" Zenon shouted over the rumble of his followers. "Are they not pitiful, these Usurper Kings? Little wonder the Great Lion has repented bringing them here! Little wonder He has decreed there shall be no more humans in our fair Narnia!"

There was a roar of approbation, and once again he held up both hands, basking in their praise.

"What have they done, good Narnians, but sit in their fine castle of Cair Paravel and demanded your service? Your sacrifice? How many of our boldest and bravest have died in their wars? How many of our younglings starve because they live in plenty? Has not the Great Lion seen this and more and rejected them from being His Kings?"

The mob shrieked at the injustice of it all, snarling and howling and even snapping their jaws. "Narnia for the Narnians!" they cried. "Narnia for the Narnians!"

Peter looked at Edmund, trying to force his battered head to make sense of the words. Surely these creatures, his own subjects, surely they could not be so deceived. Edmund tightened his jaw, his dark eyes turning hard, and Zenon turned a cold smile upon him.

"What say you, my Narnians? Shall we begin with the younger? With King Edmund, called the Just? Bring him, Maurus."

He nodded to the dark Centaur that had escorted Edmund to the hilltop. As the mob on the hillside shouted their approval, Maurus seized Edmund's arm and pulled him in front of Zenon.

Edmund stood looking up at the Centaur, every inch a King despite his disheveled appearance and lack of crown. "Why do you lie to them?"

His voice was calm and clear, and the crowd hushed to hear it.

"Why do you lie to them, Zenon?" he asked again. "Why do you say in Aslan's name things that are not true? The Great Lion chose us, the High King most especially, because He knew we would love this land and this people and care for them with all that is in us." He turned to face the Narnians, his back to the Centaur. "How many of you have ever met me or my brother and sisters? How many of you have even been to Cair Paravel? If you had, if you had bothered to speak to those who know us, who live near us, you would know every word Zenon tells you is a lie. Do you know how many times the High King has fought in the heat of summer or lain cold on a winter campground fighting for your land? Fighting for you? How many times has he been near death from wounds suffered in your defense? Or how often he has opened the royal treasury or the royal granary when our people are in want? Do you know how often my sisters the Queens have tended to the wounded? The sick? The needy? Narnia is known for her laws, for their justice and their mercy. Did you have such laws under the White Witch?"

A low murmur went through the crowd, and Zenon stamped one heavy hoof. "Enough of this! Do not let this silver-tongued enchanter deceive you. He speaks pretty words, but answer me this, Just King, you say you serve the Lion and that you are His chosen."

"I do."

The Centaur smirked. "If that is so, then why has He given you and your High King into my hands? Why is He silent?"

Without warning, Zenon shoved Edmund to his knees, holding him there with one heavy hand as he drew a narrow-bladed dagger from his belt.

Peter tried to struggle away from the Centaur who supported him, but he hadn't the strength. "Ed!"

Edmund didn't turn, didn't take his eyes from Zenon. A sudden gust of wind whipped his black hair into his face, but otherwise he was perfectly still. "If it is my hour, I will go. And my brother the same. But you, Centaur, do not hold our lives in your hands."

"We shall try that, shall we?" With a sneer, the Centaur raised his voice, the wind carrying his words over the hillside. "Great Aslan! I am here to do as You commanded me. If You wish me to stay my hand, speak!"

Dagger upraised, Zenon waited, but there was only the wailing of the wind.

Peter could hear Linnet sobbing from where she stood, but he did not turn to her, did not take his eyes off of the Centaur. _Aslan, I beg you. Don't make Edmund and Linnet pay the price of my failure. Please–_

"You see, my Narnians!" Zenon cried. "It is we, not these pitiful usurpers, who are the true followers of the Great Lion!" His own golden mane blowing wild, he took Edmund by the hair and pulled back his head, exposing his pale throat as he drew back the blade. "So, in the name of Aslan–"

**Author's Note: Dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! Yes, I had to end it there. No, if you kill me you will never find out what happens next, so choose wisely. Please forgive me for taking so long to update. I promise I will never abandon this or any other story. More to come. Happy New Year and a special, slightly belated Happy Birthday to Lady Alambiel. If you are pleased to see more of this story, you can thank her. She has been most encouraging about me getting it done. Thank you, Lady A!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lucy urged her mount forward, staying up with Oreius and the Centauress, Demeter, who led them further into the forest, further west. There was grim urgency in every line of the Mare's face, in every step she took, and Lucy couldn't quell the growing dread in the pit of her stomach. If what Demeter told them was true, Peter and Edmund would not have long to live and Lady Linnet would be taken to Harfang to a more terrible fate.

_Alsan_, she prayed over and over. _Aslan, save them. Save them. Please, let us be in time. Let us not be too late_.

There was wind behind them, gusting suddenly as if it too would hurry them on, and Lucy pulled her horse up next to Demeter.

"How much longer now?" she asked, more of a plea than a question.

The Centauress shifted on her delicate hooves, looking at Oreius as if for approval.

The General looked up at the suddenly darkening sky. "It is only mid-afternoon, but it may be a storm is coming. Will we be there before nightfall, Lady?"

"In just a short while more," Demeter said. "From the top of the next hill, you can see the camp."

"Perhaps the Lady Demeter should rest here and let us go on," Darreth suggested.

"No," Demeter cried. "I must speak to my husband. I must try to reason with him. Oh, hurry! You must hurry!"

She sprinted away and, with a glance at the others, Lucy galloped after her. Darreth was at her side, and Oreius was right behind them, calling orders to a Hawk scout to tell the army to move forward as quickly as possible. Remus gave an excited yip, and he and Romulus darted forward, the Tigers and Philip in their wake.

The Centauress had spoken truly. As the reached the crest of the hill, Lucy could see the Centaur camp on the opposite hillside. She shuddered to see the remains of the White Witch's castle in the little valley below, shuddered to see that valley and the hill too covered with Narnians, their attention on the magnificent golden Centaur who stood before them with all the majesty of a King. That had to be Zenon, Demeter's husband.

"Oreius!" she cried. "Oh, hurry!"

For there behind Zenon stood a group of Giants, one of them with Linnet held tight to his side. Near them was another fair-haired Centaur. He seemed to have been charged with keeping Peter prisoner, but Peter sagged against him, head down, unable to stand without support. And in front of Zenon, oh, Aslan!

"Hold, traitor!" Oreius commanded, drawing his sword as he galloped ahead, and the Tigers and Wolves and the Horse followed their General. But they had been one step behind this whole while. Now it was too late. Too late!

Lucy spurred her horse forward along with them, hardly able to draw breath. Edmund. Edmund knelt before Zenon, his throat bared for the blade the Centaur raised high.

"Zenon!" Demeter shrieked, bolting down the hillside with the rest, her long dark hair and tail blowing behind her. "Wait! No!"

The golden Centaur glanced her way. Then, a diamond-hard light in his eyes, he lifted his dagger higher, raising his voice over the sudden howling of the wind. "Come no closer, Demeter! You have betrayed my trust, but you shall see I was right all along! Aslan has rejected these pitiful humans and given our Narnia back to those who belong here! See, my true Narnians! See that Aslan, Aslan who does not forsake His own, has given them and Narnia into my hand!"

"Aslan!" Lucy cried, tears springing to her eyes as his dagger came down, a swift, shining arc towards Edmund's pale throat, and she saw her brother's lips move, forming that same word though she was too far away to hear, too far away to help. He did not struggle. He did not cower. He only said the Name.

_Aslan._

The howl of the wind became a roar. Lucy's horse reared and nearly threw her as that wind doubled, tripled, quadrupled in force. The trees creaked and swayed, bowed nearly to the ground. The darkened sky was filled with debris, with leaves and twigs and grass, and the gathered crowd began to murmur and then run. The wind swirled, picking up speed, growing louder, rumbling through the valley and up the hillside where Zenon stood, dagger poised in mid-strike.

"Stand where you are!" he screamed. "Stand and see! The blood of the usurper Kings shall wash away the stench of humankind from our fair land and we shall be free once more! In the name of Aslan!"

Once more he lifted the blade. Edmund's eyes were on him, dark and piercing, and once more his lips formed the name.

_Aslan. Aslan._

The dagger flashed and Edmund fell, but not to the blade. All around the Centaur, the wind blew and twisted, downing the Giants, gibbering and terrified at his back, and Linnet with them. Downing the fair-haired Centaur and Peter at his side. Lucy narrowed her eyes to slits, trying to see as her mount twisted and shied beneath her. The roar was deafening now, and the wind became a tight black funnel, spinning and whirling.

"Zenon!" Demeter wailed, her voice thin and high. "No!"

The Centuar stumbled to his knees, the dagger whipped from his upraised hands, armor straps snapping as the metal plates tore loose and sliced through the air. His body twisted, rising up as arms and legs flailed, and then, with a final howl, he was gone.

And like the sudden quenching of a candle flame, the wind stopped.

OOOOO

There had been a brief, stunned silence following Zenon's disappearance, but now all around Edmund rose a cacophony of wails and murmurs and the shouts of Zenon's followers trying to rally those who had not fled. He had to get Peter and Linnet to safety somehow. Still tied at the wrists, Edmund struggled to his knees and then to his feet, and then he turned to where he had last seen his brother.

Peter lay on the torn grass, barely able to hold up his bound hands, trying to ward off the fair-haired Centaur who leaned over him with a dagger.

"Let him go!" Fear and rage boiling in his blood, Edmund lunged toward them. "Let him go!"

The Centaur knelt and, with a glance at Edmund, cut the ropes at Peter's wrists. Edmund halted before them, chest heaving as he studied the Centaur's solemn face.

"My King." Aurelius quickly cut Edmund's bonds as well, and then he bowed his head and offered up his sword. "Forgive me, Sire."

Before Edmund could even think of a response, Peter gasped and tried to crawl away. Edmund held him where he was.

"No, Peter, it's all right. It's all right."

"Linnet," Peter panted, looking to the forest, pale lips trembling. "Linnet."

Edmund saw Linnet creeping out of the trees. She must have broken free from the terrified Giants, but the hideous Lizard, Bashkara, was slithering towards her.

"Please." Peter tried to reach his hand up to Edmund's and could not. "Eddie."

"Watch over him," Edmund told the Centaur, and clutching the heavy, unfamiliar sword, he ran towards the trees.

OOOOO

Linnet watched as Edmund ran from Peter's side. He was coming to her.

"Don't leave him!" she cried, hurrying towards him. "Don't–"

A low cry escaped her as the great Lizard, Bashkara, stepped into her path, his forked tongue flicking in and out of his mouth and a hungry light in his gimlet eyes. "You needn't worry over him, Queen Lucy," he hissed. "He will not suffer long."

She took a hurried step back, almost tripping over a branch that had been torn down by the whirlwind. She picked it up. "Get away from me. Go back to Calormen or wherever you belong. Do you not see that Aslan's judgement is upon your master and upon you?"

The Lizard gave her only a steaming, hissing laugh. "Your miserable Kings will soon be dead, as will all the humans and those who welcome them. The curse of Tash is upon you all!"

He lunged at her and, with a cry that was half terror and half fury, she swung the branch. It landed with a dull thud, a thud that was echoed as the foul creature dropped to the ground and was still. She stood panting over it, half sick. Bashkara would never move again.

Edmund was suddenly beside her, taking her hand and then releasing it.

"Well done, Lady. But we have to be certain."

She turned her face away as he swung the sword he carried, and again there was a thud. She did not want to see the creature's foul head on the ground.

"Peter?"

She could see him lying there at the fair-haired Centaur's feet, the one who had been their captor. Why had Edmund left him there?

"Hurry," Edmund said, urging her on. "Aurelius is with us now. You must go tend to Peter. I saw Lucy coming with the army. I have to get the cordial from her before it's too late."

They were running now, and Linnet hadn't the breath to ask more questions. Too late? Oh, Aslan, Aslan, no. Not too late. Peter couldn't–

"Peter," she cried, throwing herself down on the grass beside him. "Peter, can you hear me?"

He did not stir when she patted his cheek, and she looked up at Edmund, pleading. But Edmund didn't see her. He, too, was kneeling at Peter's side, one gentle hand on his brother's face. No, it could not be.

"Listen to me, you great lummox," Edmund said, his voice low and steady and fully in command. "You are going to stay right here until I get back with Lucy and the cordial. That is an order from your King."

Peter stirred just the slightest bit, and Edmund leapt to his feet. "Watch over them, Aurelius. I will be back."

He took off at a run, as fleet as a deer, and she could see Oreius and the army coming up the side of the hill. Lucy was with him, clearly she had seen Edmund and was heading straight for him. _Oh, hurry. Hurry!_

When she looked back at Peter, his eyes were open, hazily focused on her.

She pressed his hand to her lips and then to her cheek. "Peter."

"Linnet." His fingers tightened around hers. "You're– you're here? It's not a dream? The Giants–"

She managed a shaky smile. "The great cowards. They ran when they saw the whirlwind."

His eyes crinkled a little at the corners. "They never could face anything not smaller than they are."

He started to laugh, and then he was wracked by coughing. She held him close, feeling his body shake, feeling him struggling for air. Oh, where was Edmund? Where was Lucy?

Peter was suddenly still against her, and she turned his face up to the sun. It was drawn and waxen, the blood at the corner of his mouth starkly red against the dead white.

She touched his cheek and found it cold. "Peter?"

He nestled his head against her, a shiver running through him. "Would you?"

"Would I?" She stroked back his lank hair and pressed her lips to his forehead. Cold. Cold. "Would I what?"

"Would you– have said– yes?"

"Oh, Peter." As tightly as she could manage without hurting him, she held him against her, and her tears fell into the dulled gold of his hair. "Of course I would. I will. I do."

He made her no reply. He merely closed his eyes, a faint smile now on his white lips, and the breath slowly seeped out of his lungs. She looked pleadingly at the Centaur standing with grave pity over them and then down the hillside. She couldn't see Edmund or Lucy anywhere.

**Author's Note: Here's a bonus chapter to make up for how long it's been since I've done regular posts on this story. Sooo . . . what do you think?**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Edmund raced down the side of the hill, legs and lungs and heart pumping hard and fast. There was Oreius at the head of the army, charging up toward him, toward the remaining Fell, the ones who had not fled when their leader, the Centaur Zenon, had been swept away in the whirlwind. The dark Centaur who had followed him, the one called Maurus, was standing almost at the spot where Zenon had last been, shouting to the rest of his rebels to stand and fight, to retake Narnia for the Narnians, but Edmund had no time for him now. He had no thought for battle or rebellions or questions of sovereignty. His eye was fixed on the tall, slender figure of his younger sister as she urged her mount up the hillside. He had to get her and the cordial to Peter before it was too late.

Lucy had already seen him and was spurring her horse toward him, only Darreth and Demeter, Zenon's mate, with her now. Oreius and the rest of the army were charging straight for Maurus and his Fell, raising swords and shouts of war. Time was running out. If Peter's wounds did not overtake him, surely the battle would. Edmund had to get to–

"Lucy!"

Terah, the Satyr who had been one of those who had taken Linnet, had sprung out of nowhere, making Lucy's horse and the Centauress both shy back. He seized Demeter's arm, raising his sword before her as he cursed.

Edmund forced his legs to pump harder, gulping down more air as the blood roared in his ears.

"Traitor!" Terah spat at the Centauress. "Zenon trusted you, and you bring war upon us?"

Lucy drew her dagger. "Let her go!"

"Lucy!" Edmund gasped, drawing his own blade even though he knew he could not reach them in time. "Lu!"

Glancing back, the Satyr merely sneered, his sword still raised to Demeter. "Let him come, your pitiful King. Death is upon you. Death is upon him, upon all humans. Death–"

Whatever else he might have said gurgled out with his blood. His sword thudded to the ground, and he clawed twice at the arrow in his throat. Then the startled horror dimmed from his eyes and he slumped to the ground.

Demeter clasped her hands over her heart, her delicate face paler than before, and Lucy turned, her mouth in a little round "o" of surprise as their rescuer pulled out the quiver that had been concealed in his pack and nocked another arrow.

"Well done, Darreth," Edmund panted, finally reaching them. "Lu, no time. Peter needs the cordial."

"Oh, Peter!" she cried, looking up to the top of the hill. "Hurry!"

She scooted back, and Edmund leapt up into the saddle in front of her.

"Hurry," she urged again, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he dug his heels into the horse's sides.

Darreth and Demeter galloped beside them to the top of the hill, the Terebinthian making three more kills as the Fell tried to close in on them and on Peter and Linnet huddled together on the hilltop. The fair-haired Centaur, Aurelius, still stood guard over them, his sword now bloodied in their defense.

Linnet looked up when Edmund and Lucy leapt from their horse. Her fair hair blew wild around her tear-stained face and over Peter's bloodless one.

"Edmund," she sobbed. "Lucy. Oh, Lucy!"

Edmund lifted Peter's head from her lap, a cold shard of dread piercing his heart when Peter gave no response. "Peter. Come on, Peter, please."

Lucy was already on her knees beside him, her little diamond bottle at his lips. One blood-red drop spilled out, shimmering as it fell, and then, despite the battle that raged around them, it seemed that, for a brief eternity, everything stopped.

"Peter," Linnet sobbed. "Peter."

She leaned over him, pressing her lips to his, and with a harsh, heaving gasp, he began breathing once again. "Peter," she breathed, sobbing and laughing at the same time. "Peter."

Edmund let the tight air out of his lungs, squeezing his eyes shut as he thanked Aslan for yet another reprieve, squeezing his brother's shoulder and feeling it still warm under his hand. Lucy slipped one arm around Edmund's waist and cupped Peter's cheek with her free hand, beaming at them through tears.

Peter struggled to sit up. "Edmund, what–"

"No time, Your Majesty," Darreth said, moving closer to them all, his bow at the ready, and Aurelius raised his blood-stained sword once more.

"They come."

Edmund leapt to his feet, taking up his own blade. Oreius had driven Maurus back, but the dark Centaur and his Fell were making towards the Kings.

"Take this, Lu." Edmund gave his second blade to his sister. "Give your dagger to Lady Linnet. In case she needs it."

"My foal," Demeter began, looking frightened, but Lucy gave her a reassuring smile.

"You stay with us."

"Give it to me, Ed," Peter murmured, still trying to get up. "Your sword."

Linnet held him where he was. "You cannot. Please, love, you cannot yet."

"Stay down, imbecile," Edmund said, scowling at his brother.

"My King," Aurelius urged.

"Keep him there, Lady," Edmund told Linnet. "Lucy, do as I said."

Linnet took the little dagger from Lucy and then wrapped her arms more tightly around Peter, speaking low, calming nothings against his ear. Lucy stood over them, hefting Edmund's sword, one he knew was too big for her but one he knew she would make deadly use of all the same. Then, with a clatter of hooves, Maurus was upon them.

Edmund stood between him and the others, head high, face stern and unyielding. "You are lost, Maurus. Our army is coming and yours has fled. Aslan Himself has passed judgement on Zenon and his rebellion. All who follow that path shall meet the same end. Yield now, and you shall have our mercy."

"Who are you to speak of mercy and judgement?" Maurus sneered. "True, your General has forced us to flee, but he cannot reach you before we have done what we purposed all along. You, the High King, Queen Lucy, you will die, and the rest of your pitiful kind will leave our land." He glared at Aurelius standing silent at Edmund's side and Demeter looking pale behind them. "They and all who serve them."

The fair-haired Centaur's face was somehow grave and pleading all at once. "Listen to him, Maurus. He speaks the truth. We were deceived. We were all deceived. Zenon lied to us. He did not hear from Aslan. He never heard from Aslan. You– _We_ murdered the innocent in the name of the Great Lion, and it was all a lie. But it is not too late to turn from this evil. You heard the King Edmund. He offers mercy for those who repent. He offers–"

"Kill them all!"

Maurus lunged forward, slashing at Edmund with his heavy blade as the rest of his battered band of Fell roared and lunged after him. Edmund parried the blow as Darreth began firing arrow after arrow at their attackers. Aurelius charged into the midst of the enemy, hacking through flesh and fur and feathers, holding them at bay.

"Oreius is coming!" Darreth shouted. "Keep them off just a little longer."

Edmund could see the Centaur General racing up towards him, all of Narnia's army with him. Maurus redoubled his efforts, knowing he was lost already, but Edmund matched him blow for blow. Just a little more and it would be over. A moment more and then–

With a gasp he fell to one knee, and fierce pain shot through his leg. The Wolverine, the cursed Wolverine. Edmund had forgotten about him. His teeth were sunk into Edmund's calf and he was dragging him backward, away from Peter and Lucy and Linnet, leaving them prey to Maurus. Oreius would not reach them in time.

"Lucy!" Edmund shouted as he twisted and writhed, trying to land a blow against the grinning Wolverine's head. "Lucy!"

Maurus's eyes gleamed with death. "I will see to her, little King. To her and then the so-called High King."

"Lucy!"

Lucy stood with her borrowed sword raised. "Edmund!"

"Stay with Peter!" he ordered, kicking and clawing at the ground as the Wolverine still dragged him. "Stay–"

Two snarling flashes of gray bounded onto the Wolverine, making it release Edmund's leg with a yelp. Romulus and Remus tore into the fell creature, but it fought its way free, making a frenzied dash towards the trees only to meet with the plunging hooves of a chestnut-colored Horse.

"Philip," Edmund breathed.

He scrambled to his feet as best he was able, trying to see where Maurus was. Had he reached Lucy? He couldn't see her. No, there she was, brave Lucy, still warding Peter and Linnet. Where was Maurus? There with his sword thrusting out as a Tiger leapt at him.

"Babur!"

Edmund struggled toward him, but it was too late. The big Cat's leap ended at the point of the dark Centaur's blade. He clawed at the empty air and then fell in a heap at Peter's feet.

"No!" Edmund howled, lunging toward him and then falling again to one knee. "Babur!"

Once again, Maurus turned to Lucy, his bloodied sword raised, but once more he was thwarted.

"No more, Maurus." Aurelius charged up to him, his own weapon stained with battle. "You will bring no more death to this place and to this people."

"Do not order me, traitor!"

The Centaurs, dark and fair, swung their swords, the battle around them dimming into insignificance as they fought. Edmund tried again to stand, but again his torn leg betrayed him. He could do nothing but watch as Maurus and Aurelius waged their private war. Then, the two of them rushed at each other, each giving a cry of rage and fury as they clashed, each clinging to the other as cold steel razored through their bodies, each staggering back on flailing hooves clutching at the hilt of the sword that belonged to his foe.

"Traitor," Maurus gasped as he fell to his knees and then to his side. "Traitor."

"No," Aurelius breathed, his legs collapsing under him. "Traitor no more."

But the dark Centaur was beyond hearing.

"Aurelius." Edmund hobbled up to the fair-haired Centaur, seeing the blood pooling on the ground before him, his noble face turning waxy with death. "It's all right. No. Wait. Wait. Lucy!"

Lucy hurried to his side, the little diamond bottle already in her hand. She stood at the Centaur's side, supporting him against her as Edmund pulled the sword out of his body. Then she gave him a drop of the precious cordial, smiling in satisfaction as the wound closed and vanished as if it had never been.

"I think it's over," she told Edmund as she looked out over the battlefield. "The Fell are dead or gone. Oreius is coming. Where's Darreth?"

Edmund smirked, but before he could tease her about a certain Terebinthian lord, a howl of anguish rose from behind them.

"Babur!"

"Help me, Lu," Edmund said, and with one arm around her shoulders, he managed to limp over to where Bast sat at her brother's side, her head bowed with grief. The Tiger lay gasping in the grass, blood pouring from the hole beneath his breastbone. Peter knelt beside him, stroking his matted fur.

"Lucy!" he cried, looking up. "Hurry!"

Bast watched with anxious eyes as, once again, Lucy administered the cordial. A moment later Babur lifted his head, panting and weak, but whole.

"Idiot," the Tigress muttered, but she nudged his nose and then turned away, blinking very hard.

"He saved us," Lucy said, looking pleadingly at Edmund.

For a moment Edmund was puzzled, and then he remembered his harsh words to the Tiger when Peter had first been hurt and Linnet taken. It seemed a lifetime ago now.

He knelt at the Tiger's side and put one hand on his furry head. "Thank you, Babur. Well done."

Babur merely bowed his head in return, but he gave a great sigh and seemed to rest easier.

"We are victorious, Your Majesties," Oreius said, coming up to them. "Those who opposed us have fled or been slain. And we have a number of prisoners who have surrendered themselves to your justice and mercy."

With Linnet's help, Peter got to his feet. "Our casualties?"

"Very few, I thank Aslan," the Centaur General said.

Edmund looked up at the sky, clear and blue with no sign of the whirlwind that had roared over them not long before. Zenon was gone. Peter and Linnet were alive and whole. Narnia was once more safe.

Thank Aslan indeed.

**Author's Note: I would like to apologize to everyone in the world for how long it's taken me to update this story. I left poor Peter dying for months! But I'll try to do better in the future. There's still a lot to wrap up, but I already stayed up all night just getting this, so I hope you like it. Do let me know what you think. Thanks to Lady Alambiel as always for brainstorming and encouragement.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Your– Your Majesty?"

Peter turned at the timid voice and saw a little Mole bowing before him, muddy paws clasped together, tiny eyes squinting in the unaccustomed daylight. As always, his heart softened at the presence of one of his smaller subjects, but then he steeled himself. This one had been one of Zenon's followers. Justice would have to be done upon him and all his like.

He was still somewhat shaky despite the cordial's healing, but he pushed away from Linnet and drew himself up to his full height over the cowering creature. "What would you say to us, Master Mole?"

"We're–" The Mole put one paw on the toe of Peter's boot and ducked his head. "We're sorry."

Dozens of little Animals, Rabbits and Badgers and Raccoons, Dogs and Skunks, Squirrels and Rats and Tortoises and many others, had crept up behind the Mole, their bright eyes looking up at him full of shame and pleading.

"We thought it was what Aslan wanted." The Mole blinked. "We– we didn't see."

"But you have done great harm," Peter said, wanting more than anything to speak comfort to them and send them home. "You have let someone else tell you what He wishes. You have let someone else tell you who He is instead of learning to know Him for yourselves. And you have believed false reports of us and of our Brother King and our Sister Queens because, again, you have listened to someone else's words rather than knowing us for yourselves. And, because of that, many innocent people have died."

"But we did not kill them!" an Owl protested over the murmurs around him. "We did not kill anyone."

"But you stood by, Master Owl. You allowed them to be killed and did nothing. There is no wisdom in that." Peter lifted his head, stern and majestic as if, rather than thin and ragged and stained with travel and his own blood, he stood crowned in the throne room at Cair Paravel. "All of you, you followed Zenon, believed his words and did not warn us or anyone who could have given help to the villages that were destroyed. Those people need not have died."

One of the Puppies gave a little whimper and then lifted her head in a howl of grief.

"But what can we do?" a young Goat bleated over the mournful cries mingled with that howl. "What can we do?"

Peter held up one hand, and with a number of sniffles and sobs, there was silence.

"All of you who repent what you have done, all of you who wish to face the rightful punishment for your wrongs, you will surrender yourselves to General Oreius and come with us to Cair Paravel to be justly sentenced for your wrongs."

The Puppy whimpered again, but she came up and nuzzled Peter's knee. Then, head down and tail tucked between her legs, she went to stand at Oreius's feet. The others followed after her, murmuring among themselves, glancing up at Peter and then Edmund and Lucy and then at the formidable Centaur standing, arms crossed, beside them.

With a graceful bow of his own, Arelius turned to follow them, but Peter stopped him.

"I, too, would face the judgement due me," the fair-haired Centaur said. "I have done more, much more, evil than these."

"And you have done much more good," Peter said, his stern expression softening. "Yes, you must answer for what you have done, but you must also accept our thanks. Even when you served Zenon, you showed us and our lady what kindness you could. You watched over both of us in the battle and even took mortal hurt in our defense. That will not go unremembered."

Again, the Centaur bowed and, with the remnant of his herd, went to stand with the rest of the repentant, leaving only Demeter. The Centauress stood with her head bowed, her hair falling like a dark waterfall to hide her face, her slender hands clasped before her. Finally she looked up, a quick, pleading glance at Lucy and Darreth, and then she dropped her head again and stole over to the others

"Peter," Lucy whispered, tugging his hand. "Lady Demeter–"

"Oreius will see to the prisoners," Peter said, only vaguely remembering the Centauress from when he was held captive. "We need to make camp and see to our own soldiers. Edmund ought to be lying down, don't you think?"

"That's what I told him," Philip grumbled, nudging Edmund and nearly knocking him off his good leg.

"I'm all right," Edmund said, putting one arm around the Horse's neck to steady himself, but his face was pale and tired under the blood and grime.

Darreth took Lucy's arm and tucked it into his own. "Perhaps he is right. Both of your brothers should be resting now. You should look after them while we make camp. Oreius will see to Lady Demeter."

He whispered something into Lucy's ear that made her smile, and Peter frowned, glancing at Edmund. Surely not–

"Please, My Lord."

A soft hand stole into Peter's, and he smiled down into Linnet's worried eyes. "All right, love. I think we've all been through enough for one day. And–" He lowered his voice for her ears alone. "I do remember that you said yes."

Her cheeks turned a very satisfying shade of pink, but she pressed a little closer to his side. "Yes, My Lord, I did."

The soldiers set up a swift camp. Lucy cleaned and bandaged the bite on Edmund's leg and then convinced him to lie down until supper was made. It helped that Philip nudged him back down every time he tried to stand and that, each time he did, Romulus and Remus would then plop down next to and sometimes on top of Edmund, their tongues lolling out as they looked at him with big, adoring doggy grins.

Once the girls had gone to their own tent to get cleaned up, Peter pulled his blanket over next to Edmund's and stretched out.

"How are you feeling?"

Edmund prodded the rolled-up blanket he was using for a pillow so he was sitting up a bit. "I've had worse. How about you?"

Peter exhaled. "I don't know if I've ever been this tired before. Even after Beruna."

"Better tired than dead."

Peter chuckled. "Very true, brother mine. Very true."

"Though I can't guarantee you won't be both once Susan gets hold of you."

"Ah, um . . . Susan." Peter winced. "I don't suppose she's going to be very happy with me."

"You don't suppose right. And good thing Lucy is Lucy, or she would have skinned you alive herself. She got to the Cair with the cordial just a few minutes after you sneaked out."

Again Peter winced. "So I didn't have to–"

"You didn't have to go stumbling all over Narnia half dead all this time." Edmund shook his head in disgust. "Nitwit."

Peter sighed. Yes, Susan would have a choice word or two for him when he got home. And Lucy–

"What exactly–" He sat up, frowning. "What is Darreth doing here?"

"He came back from Terebinthia with Lucy when they got word you were dying. Good thing, too. I didn't know he was that skilled with a bow."

"What do you mean?"

"He saved Lucy and Lady Demeter when I was trying to get to them to get the cordial to you. I never would have reached them in time. And even after that, when we were coming back up to where you were, he killed several Fell who were trying to stop us." Edmund shrugged. "I don't know if Lucy or I or you would be here if he hadn't come."

"Right. He's a good man and a good friend. You know I haven't forgotten what he did for us in Tashbaan, but I want to know what's going on between him and Lucy."

Edmund made a wry face. "I don't know if they even know. Probably nothing at this point, but it's not like they've spent the past few days walking in the gardens and stuff. They haven't had time for anything even vaguely romantic."

"They looked rather chummy to me just now," Peter said, scowling.

"Well, for now we all have other things to worry about." Edmund lay down again and closed his eyes. "Once we get all this seen to, we ought to be able to tell a bit more.

"I suppose we can always have a little chat with Darreth when Lucy's not around," Peter said, closing his eyes too.

"You know," Edmund told him, "'having a little chat' does not mean cornering him during training and asking him at sword point if his intentions are honorable."

Peter opened one eye. "I'm not the one who spent an entire week searching Narnian law trying to find an excuse to throw that man from Archenland into the dungeon just because he danced with Lucy three times in a row."

"There are precedents," Edmund muttered. "There are precedents. If Susan hadn't insisted on being so literal . . ."

"I guess she was right though. Dancing isn't quite the same thing as kidnapping, treason and piracy."

"Close enough," Edmund huffed, and he closed his eyes once more. "I could have convinced the judge."

"You _are_ the judge," Philip said. "It wouldn't have been at all fair. Now go to sleep."

One of the Wolves lifted his head from Edmund's chest. "Is Lady Linnet going to be your mate, King Peter?"

Peter couldn't quite keep from smiling. "Yes, Romulus, she is."

Remus wriggled closer to Edmund, yellow eyes bright and eager. "King Edmund?"

"What?"

"Is Queen Lucy going to have a mate now, too?"

Edmund's eyes popped open.

"No!" he and Peter shouted simultaneously.

Remus yipped as the Horse leaned down and nipped his flank. "You've been told not to ask such things, pup."

"I'm not a pup," the Wolf muttered licking the spot. "And I only asked on accident." He turned again to Edmund, nuzzling against him. "I didn't mean to."

Edmund patted his head and then put one arm around him. "It's all right. Just go to sleep."

Remus grinned, tongue lolling again. "I didn't think Queen Lucy was going to have puppies or anything."

"Remus!"

"P-puppies?" Peter sputtered. "Lucy?"

Remus yelped as Philip seized him by the scruff of the neck and carried him out of the tent. Romulus watched after them with mournful eyes and then looked pleadingly at Edmund.

"He only did it on accident, King Edmund."

Edmund shook his head. "Just go to sleep, Romulus."

"But, Edmund," Peter said. "Puppies? Lucy?"

Edmund smirked at him, the little devil doubtless enjoying his chagrin. "You go to sleep, too."

Peter lay back down and closed his eyes, but he was sure he wouldn't sleep a wink all night.

OOOOO

The camp was quiet as darkness stole over it. Oreius had already made sure his colts were fed and bedded down for the night with Babur standing guard. He had even told Philip to allow the younger of the Greyback brothers to return to their tent, though he was more than certain his latest lecture about proper topics of conversation was already forgotten.

He had seen that the Queen Lucy and the Lady Linnet were comfortable and secure in a tent of their own under the care of Bast and an Aspen Dryad who was a captain in his army. His soldiers were either sleeping or gathered companionably around the campfires. That left only the prisoners to be seen to. They, too, were sleeping or huddled together talking quietly. He could not help pitying the foolish creatures. Most of them anyway. They had been used and deceived and led astray, but they were not truly evil. The Centaurs though–

"General Oreius? May I speak to you?"

He turned at the soft voice, wiping every emotion from his face.

"Lady Demeter." He bowed formally. "What is it you would say?"

She shifted on her dainty hooves. "I– Please, General, what will happen to us?"

"That is not for me to say. You will all have justice and, I am certain, mercy where it is warranted."

"Surely there can be no mercy for me." There was pleading fear in her dark eyes, and then she looked away. "I deserve none."

Oreius nodded. "We Centaurs, we have great responsibility for what we do. We are Aslan's prophets and seers. We read His tales in the stars. We, above all, should know Him best and speak only His truth. Your husband deceived many with his lies and great evil came of it."

A tear slipped down her pale cheek. "I know. I know I should have tried to stop him sooner than I did. I know I should have listened to what the Great Lion was trying to tell me, but I was afraid." Again she looked up at him, still pleading, still afraid. "He was my husband, my foal's sire, I thought–" Two more tears fell. "I thought he loved me."

Some of the anger burning in Oreius's heart melted into pity. She was such a young thing, small and delicate, easily frightened, easily hurt. Even in the fading light he could see the bruises Zenon had left on her throat. Could he truly hold her responsible for what he had done? Any more than the little Rabbits and Squirrels who had been deceived by him?

"Forgive me, Lady. I have spoken too harshly. I do not believe you were truly a party to what your husband did. And if you had not come to us, I am certain the High King would be dead now. He has much to thank you for as do we all."

She lowered her head. "The High King, he would not even speak to me. He knows I was Zenon's mate. How can he pardon me for that?"

Oreius reached out one hand and tilted her face up to him again. He felt her tremble at the touch.

"Do not fear, Lady. As I said, my Sovereigns have much to thank you for, and they are not without pity."

She nodded and then pulled away from him. "I hope at least they will see my little one is cared for."

"Of course they will. You needn't fear for that. Is there no one you would like to send word to? Someone from your own herd? From your own family?"

She shook her head, the tears welling up once again. "My mother and sister are dead. And my father–" She pressed both hands over her mouth, sobbing as the tears finally spilled over. "My father never wants to see me again."

**Author's Note: Yay! I didn't take months to update this time! I'd love to know what you think of this chapter. More to come.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Five

_My father never wants to see me again._

Oreius stared at the Centauress, hardly believing what he had just heard. A Centaur sire would not turn away his own filly. Oreius had never heard it done except in the most dire of circumstances.

"Would you–" He did not want to pry into matters that were obviously painful for her, but perhaps it would help if she could tell someone what she had suffered. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

She wiped the tears from her face with both hands, and he wished he could give her one of those foolish little bits of handkerchief the Queens carried with them.

"My– My mother and sister and I had wandered just a little way from our herd, searching for the herbs my father favored to season his food. We were taken by Calormene slavers. My mother and sister were killed by them, but I escaped. Zenon rescued me and took care of me. He left me with his herd and went to tell my father where I was and what had happened. But my father–" She drew a shuddering breath and then lifted her chin. "He told Zenon I was to blame for letting them die and that he no longer had any daughter. He said he wished I had died, too."

Her pain-filled eyes searched his, looking no doubt for censure, for confirmation that her father had done only what was right, only what she deserved.

"And you never heard from him again?" Oreius asked, not wanting the indignant fury he was feeling to show on his face and frighten her. "Not once?"

She shook her head. "I sent him three messages after that, begging his forgiveness, begging to come home, but he would not answer me. Zenon wanted me to stay and marry him. I didn't know what else to do. I had nowhere to go, and he had been so good to me. He had saved me." There was pleading now in her dark eyes. "How could I not love him?"

Oreius had seen Zenon only briefly, only from a distance before the Lion's wind had taken him away, but clearly he had been a formidable warrior and a charismatic leader. Who could blame a filly in such straits for being charmed by him?

"Who is your father, Lady?"

"He is Apollo. Our herd is near the Archen River, just where it meets the Great River below the Shuddering Woods."

Apollo. Now Oreius knew why her story had seemed familiar. He had heard of this Apollo, reputed to be noble and a follower of the Great Lion, and how he had lost all of his family to Calormene slavers. How dare he make such claims when his daughter was still alive? How dare he lay the blame for the deaths of his wife and other daughter on this fragile, heartbroken little filly?

Oreius made his expression as gentle as he could manage. "I do not want you to worry, Lady. The Kings and Queens will see you are cared for at least until your foal is born." He glanced at her slender form. "That is some way away, I would judge."

Her thick lashes fell to her cheeks. "It will be in the coming winter. Perhaps at Christmas."

"I know, whenever it comes, the little one will be welcomed. And you will see. Our Kings and Queens will not hold you to fault for the wickedness of others. Once they have heard your story, I have no doubt there will be nothing but pity and kindness given you."

She shook her head, and once again tears welled into her eyes. "How can they? At the very least, I am responsible for the death of Aslan's prophet, Stormseer."

Oreius caught a hard breath. "Stormseer? What do you mean? Stormseer is dead?"

Demeter nodded, her tears spilling over. "I sent word to him. I wanted to know if what my husband said was truly the word of Aslan. But Zenon– Oh, may Aslan forgive me. One of Zenon's men had him killed."

Oreius bowed his head. Stormseer. Stormseer murdered. Oh, Aslan, Great Lion, it could not be. Did this Zenon's evil have no end?

"I am grieved to hear it," Oreius said once he was able to speak again in measured tones. "As my Sovereigns will be. But again, Lady Demeter, this is not a burden you ought to carry. You did only right in trying to determine Aslan's truth. You could not have known what Zenon would do in response. I do not doubt that Stormseer himself would tell you the same and tell you, too, to leave these matters in the paws of the Lion. He sees all hearts and knows you meant the prophet no harm."

"But will the Kings and Queens believe that?" she asked, laying one timid hand on his forearm. "I know Stormseer blessed them at their coronation. They will want vengeance for his death."

Oreius covered her hand with his own, making hers seem smaller and more delicate in contrast. "I have ever found them to be just and kind. You must put your trust in the Great Lion and His mercy, but for now you need not worry. You are safe in our company."

"Thank you." Her lips trembled into a smile. "Thank you, General."

She slipped her hand out of his and returned to the other Centaur prisoners. He kept watch over her until she finally slept.

OOOOO

The morning dawned fresh and crisp, fairly bursting with the newness of spring. As the royal party drew closer to Cair Paravel, the little Animals peeped out of their nests and warrens and trees and chirped and squeaked and squealed cheerful greetings to their Kings and Queen. Peter smiled as he greeted each of them in return, many of them by name. The other little Animals, the ones who were coming back to answer for their complicity in Zenon's rebellion, watched them with round eyes, seeing here nothing of oppression or exploitation, only love and gratitude. He hoped seeing this would allay their fears and show them he was not the tyrant Zenon had painted him to be.

"Good morning, King Peter!" chirruped a quartet of Sparrows as they fluttered around his head. "Good morning! Good morning!"

"Good morning, little ones," he replied, beaming at them. "Lion's blessing on you all."

"Good morning!" they repeated, flitting over to Edmund. "Good morning, King Edmund! Isn't it a good morning! The sun is up! See! See! Good morning! Good morning!"

"Unh," Edmund grumbled as he sat hunched over his saddle, eyes screwed shut against the morning light. "Ummornin."

Philip gave a low whinnying laugh, and then gave Peter a sly wink. Then, without warning, he gave a sudden crow hop, twisting in midair and landing hard.

Edmund's eyes flew open as he clutched at the saddle. "Hey!"

Philip smirked at Peter and then walked sedately on.

"That looked fun!" cried one of the Sparrows.

"You were nearly flying!" chirped another.

"Was it fun? Was it fun?" the others tweeted. "Would you like to fly? It's a good day to fly!"

Edmund managed an indulgent smile. "It was a lot of fun. Philip and I will have a lot of fun later, too, when we have a nice, long talk about appropriate behavior for our subjects in service of their Kings."

Philip threw his head back and gave what could only be called a most exemplary horse laugh, and Peter couldn't help laughing, too.

"Awake now, Ed?"

Edmund glared blearily at him. "Whose idea was it for us to get started at the crack of stupid this morning?"

"The sun's been up a long time!" one of the Sparrows said.

"A long time!" another agreed. "At least half an hour!"

"At least! At least!" said the others.

"We had our breakfast a long time ago!"

"I'm thrilled for you," Edmund deadpanned.

"Ed," Peter scolded, and Edmund managed to make his expression more pleasant.

"Thank you for coming to see us, Cousins, but hadn't you better go back now? Your mother will be wondering where you are."

"Mama!" one of the little Birds gasped. "We didn't tell her we were going visiting!"

The little quartet immediately fluttered into the air. "Goodbye! Goodbye! We will come see you later!"

"Much later," Edmund huffed once they were gone.

Peter laughed again and then broke off, narrowing his eyes. "Psst, Ed. Look there."

Edmund squeezed his eyes shut, blinked, and then looked ahead of them. Lucy and Darreth were riding close together. As usual, Lucy was chattering away and Darreth was nodding, taking in every word.

Edmund nudged Philip a little closer to Peter's horse. "Hmmmm . . . I still don't know. They're just talking as far as I can tell, and you know Lucy's always friends with everybody."

Peter watched them for a long, wary moment and then pursed his lips. "I suppose, but what about that?"

He nodded toward where, farther ahead, Oreius and the Centauress who had been Zenon's mate, walked side by side, in grave conversation.

Edmund scoffed. "They're probably talking about herd lands or interpreting prophecy."

"I don't much remember her," Peter admitted. "She's very pretty though. You don't think we need to worry about her, do you?"

Edmund snorted. "Oreius? Never. He's too grouchy to court anyone."

"No, I don't mean that. I just mean, well, she was Zenon's mate. Do you think she is truly sorry for what he did?"

"She did all she could to stop him." Edmund's face turned grim. "He nearly killed her over it."

Peter's eyes widened.

"It's true," Edmund said. "She was trying to get him to let us go."

Peter glanced towards the two Centaurs walking up ahead. "Was that how she got those bruises on her throat?"

Edmund's mouth tightened. "He didn't like to be crossed."

"The dirty, yellow dog," Peter muttered, anger roiling inside him. "The coward."

"She's the one who went to find help for us, too. Thank Aslan she ran into Oreius and Lucy when she did."

"It is too early in the morning to look so vexed, My Lords."

Linnet rode up beside Peter looking as fresh and lovely as the morning itself. Her clothes were still dirty and torn, but she was clean and rested, a pink bloom in her cheeks and a warm light in her gray eyes. Someone, most likely Lucy, had put her honey-colored hair into a simple braid down her back. Ada would have probably said it was too common for a lady of her station, but Peter found it utterly fetching.

"Did you sleep well, My Lady?" he asked, sidling close enough to catch her hand and bring it to his lips.

"Very well, My Lord." She squeezed his hand before releasing it. "The better for knowing you were safe and well."

At his other side, Edmund made a face and rolled his eyes, but before Peter could even scowl at him, Philip gave a little huff and shook his bridle. Edmund rolled his eyes again, but he smirked a little, too, and pulled back to ride next to Bast and Babur. When Peter turned back to Linnet, he could tell by the merry gleam in her eyes that she had seen the whole exchange.

"It was good of him to give us a moment alone, My Lord."

Peter pretended to be put out. "Forgive me, love, but unfortunately he is the only brother-in-law I can offer you."

She gave him a coy look. "But that would mean I would have to agree to marry you, would it not?"

He made his expression stern. "No take backs."

"Take backs?"

"You already said yes. I remember it."

She fluttered her long lashes at him. "That wasn't a proper proposal, so it doesn't count."

"Not proper? I– You–"

With a pert grin, she spurred her horse, and he galloped after her, her silvery laughter coming back to him on the fresh breeze.

"Linnet!" he cried, laughing, too, urging his horse on until they both reached the top of a familiar rise. She slowed her horse next to his, looking up at him with shining, tear-filled eyes.

Below them, white and shimmering beside the sea, lay Cair Paravel.

Home.

**Author's Note: Home at last. I'd love to know what you think!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Twenty-Six

"You're home! You're home!" Chip, Purl and Tweedle fluttered around Edmund's head, peeping and swooping and chattering away. "You brought King Peter and the pretty lady! Queen Lucy! Queen Lucy! You're home!"

The trio of little Swallows flew over to his sister who welcomed them with her sunny smile. Now that he was fully awake, Edmund couldn't quite hide a smile of his own.

"Chip, why don't you go tell Queen Susan we're coming? She'll want to meet us in the courtyard."

"I'll go!" Tweedle chirped. "I'll go!"

Chip scowled. "He said me! He said me!"

"You always get to go!" Tweedle snapped.

Edmund snickered. "You'd both better hurry. Purl's halfway there already."

Both Swallows squawked to see their sister streaking toward Cair Paravel and then zoomed after her. By the time Edmund and the others reached the front gate, Susan and Ada and Mr. Tumnus along with a host of Birds and Animals, small and large, as well as Fauns, Satyrs and Centaurs, Dryads and Gryphons, were waiting to greet them.

"Welcome home!" Mr Tumnus called above the chorus of jubilant voices, his little hooves clattering on the cobblestones of the courtyard as he fairly danced with joy. "Welcome, Your Majesties! Dear Lady Linnet!"

Edmund smirked at Peter's audible gulp as they drew near the older of their sisters. Susan was standing, tall and regal, at the head of the assembly, her usually sweet mouth taut, her blue eyes snapping and her fists on her hips.

Peter dismounted the instant he was before her. "Uh, hullo, Su. I, um–"

"Peter William Pevensie! I ought to– Oh!" She flung herself into his arms, wetting his battered tunic with her tears. "Oh, Peter."

"Shh," he murmured, pressing his lips to her thick black hair. "It's all right. We're fine. We're all fine now."

Finally she looked up at him, trying once again to look stern and failing miserably. "If you ever, _ever_ do something like that again–"

"You'll know to expect it."

She looked at Edmund, giggling faintly, and then threw herself into his arms. "Edmund." She clung to him for a moment and then stepped back a bit, stroking the hair from his forehead. "You need a haircut."

He huffed. "Su–"

"And look how thin you are. What have you been eating? Or _not _eating?"

He looked to Peter for help, but Peter was already being scolded again.

"You will pardon me, My Lord King," Ada half sobbed, almost smothering Linnet in a tight embrace. "But it was a wild and reckless thing you did, risking my little lamb in such a way!"

"Ada–" Linnet began, but the waiting woman only held her closer, weeping .

"My Lady. My Lady."

"Mistress Ada," Peter said, shamefaced. "I am very, very–"

"Oh, you poor, poor boy! Aslan bless that sweet face of yours!"

She crushed Peter and Linnet both against her, and with a sheepish grin, Peter dipped his head and touched his lips to her forehead.

"I'm sorry for worrying you."

"I don't suppose you behaved yourself either," Susan said as she wrapped Lucy in a hug.

Lucy beamed at her. "Not in the least."

Oreius lifted one eyebrow, his face stern, but that only made her giggle. As usual.

"Your Majesties."

There was a sudden hush at the low, solemn voice, and the crowd parted to reveal a stately Centaur, his hair and coat a rich, golden brown and his eyes as silver as the sea.

Edmund glanced at his brother, sure his own expression looked as astounded as Peter's. "Stormseer."

Peter made a deep bow, Edmund and their sisters belatedly following suit. "We heard you were killed, noble Stormseer. It is good to know you were not."

"I am whole and hale, High King," the Centaur said, bowing as well. "I thank the Great Lion."

"Shall we go inside? General Oreius will see to those we brought from the battle."

"As pleases you, High King, but first there is one I would speak to." The Prophet scanned the group of prisoners until his silver eyes lighted on a graceful Centauress with dark, shame-filled eyes. "You are Demeter, wife of Zenon."

It was not a question.

She glanced at Oreius, but his eyes were on the Prophet and his expression was inscrutable.

"I am," she said, voice soft and head bowed, and then she looked up, eyes pleading. "I did not know what Argyrus meant to do. I did not think my messages to you would endanger your life. What Zenon did–"

"Lady–"

"– was more terrible than I realized. He told me it was Aslan's will, but it felt so very wrong. And I tried to get word to you–"

"Lady–"

"– but I never heard anything, and then there was the foal–"

"Lady Demeter."

She dropped her head again. "I am sorry."

"Lady Demeter, hear what the Great Lion would say to you."

There was absolute silence there in the courtyard. Every eye was fixed on the Centaur Prophet, but Edmund watched the face of the Centauress. It was pale with dread.

Stormseer briefly closed his eyes, listening, and then he looked at Demeter. "'I know your heart, My beloved daughter. I know your doubts and your fears. I know, even more yet than you, how deeply you have been deceived. And yet, beloved, I have seen your courage despite all this. You sought My will. You sought My truth. You risked all you knew for the sake of My chosen Kings and Queens and to stop Zenon's evil. You did not ignore My warning and did all you were able to warn those who would not heed Me themselves. I do not fault you for the iniquity of others, for that is not My way. You are My own, and your little one, too, is sheltered in My paws. I have brought you to a place of safety and will restore to you in abundance that which was lost. Trust in Me.'" The Prophet bowed his head once again. "So says our Lord Aslan, Son of the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea."

The Centauress was weeping openly now, both hands over her mouth to cover her sobs. And around her, there were many others wiping their eyes and sniffling into handkerchiefs. Even the little Animals who had come to receive justice for their wrongs were looking up with just the faintest bit of hope. Lucy was beaming and, Edmund did not fail to note, squeezing Darreth's hand. Linnet was clinging to Peter's arm, smiling softly despite the tear trickling down her cheek, and the great lummox himself sniffled and swiftly wiped one eye. The softy. Well, they couldn't stand here in the courtyard all day.

"Shall we–" Edmund swallowed down the tightness in his own throat. "Shall we go in now?"

Peter lifted his head, all High King. "We thank you, Stormseer, for bringing us that message." He glanced at Demeter. "It is most welcome, I know. Please come inside. Allow us to refresh ourselves and then greet you as is appropriate for Aslan's Seer. We are certain our sister the Queen Susan will see you are comfortable in meantime."

"The Gentle Queen has already been most gracious, High King," Stormseer said. "And I will look forward to speaking with you and with all of you when you are rested."

Peter bowed to him and then turned to Oreius. "Have the prisoners seen to, General, and then report back to me."

"At once, Sire."

Oreius immediately began directing his captains to find food and shelter for all those who had come from the battle. With an uncertain look at him, Demeter began to walk towards where a Bruin guard was escorting the other Centaurs away, but Lucy released Darreth's hand and went to her.

"Please, won't you come inside, Lady Demeter? We have so much to thank you for."

"Your Majesty, I would not presume–"

"Lady Demeter," Oreius said, his expression grave, "the Valiant Queen is not used to being gainsaid."

Demeter's pale face turned deeply pink. "Oh."

"I'm not," Lucy said with a giggle. "Just ask my brothers and sister. But, please, come in first. You are more than welcome. Oreius, do see that she comes."

Not waiting for an answer, she linked arms with Darreth and Peter both and went with them and Susan and Linnet towards the doors into Cair Paravel with Bast and Babur trailing after them.

The General's expression softened just the slightest bit. "You see, Lady Demeter, it is a royal command."

He offered her his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. Then they followed the others into the castle.

"Are you going to stand there smirking all day?" Philip shoved Edmund's shoulder with his muzzle, but he was considerably gentler than usual, and Edmund barely staggered. "If you're not tired, I am."

"Go ahead." Edmund rubbed his eyes, suddenly realizing how worn out he was, suddenly feeling the deep ache in his wounded leg. "I have to make sure–"

"You don't have to make sure anything." The Horse nodded over to where a pair of Collies were directing all the little Animals to gather according to the type of provender they required. "It's all being seen to, and quite nicely, I think."

"Yes, yes, I know." Edmund scanned the Centaurs, and then called to the Bruin who had charge of them. "Wait just a moment."

The enormous Bear held up both paws to stop the herd and then made a lumbering bow. "Your Majesty."

Edmund went over to the fair-haired Centaur at the rear. "I hope you will come inside as well, Aurelius. I know the High King would wish it."

"King Edmund–"

"And I wish it, too."

"But Sire–"

Edmund lifted one eyebrow. "Did you not hear the Prophet? His words, Aslan's words, they were not meant for Demeter alone. Aslan knows our hearts. He knows when we have been deceived." He smiled, feeling the wonder that seemed always fresh to him. "He is willing to forgive everyone who comes to Him. Even those of us who commit treason."

Aurelius looked warily puzzled. "Those of us, Majesty?"

Edmund grinned. "Come inside. I'll tell you all about it."

OOOOO

Demeter spent the next few days simply trying to get her hooves under her. Most nights she merely wept. For herself and her poor, fatherless foal. For her fair, faithless Zenon. What a fool she had been to follow him as far as she had, but she had trusted him. Believed him. Loved him.

Still, the leaden weight over her heart was not so heavy as it had been. The Great Lion, dear Aslan, He had spoken to her of His love and forgiveness. He did not count her guilty for her husband's wrongs. And even now, her foal was safe in His care. Poor wee one. What would she tell him about his father one day? Colt or filly, what would she say?

But that was for another day. Despite the kindness of the Gentle and Valiant Queens and even of the Magnificent High King, whom she had found surprisingly tenderhearted, there was still the Just King and his judgement to be faced now. Surely she deserved some sort of punishment, if merely for her foolishness alone, but what would it be? And what would she do afterward? Where would she live? _How_ would she live?

_Trust in Me._

She clung to the words, playing them again and again in her thoughts. And somehow, with each repetition, the Prophet's sonorous voice seemed more and more like the purr of a Lion. She would trust in Him. Wherever he led her, by the most circuitous routes, she would trust in Him. Somehow He would set everything right again. Somehow He would make her able to go on.

On the following Firstday, Demeter assembled with all the rest of Zenon's repentant followers in the great throne room. The sunshine poured through the tall windows, spilling light over the distinguished Animals and Magical Creatures who were the lords and ladies of the court, adding a second sheen to the carved marble thrones, making the royal crowns sparkle, and illuminating the Kings and Queens themselves. The Gentle Queen was radiant in rose-colored velvet and pearls. Her sister, the Valiant, was no less radiant, though much less serene, in forest green silk and a garland of wildflowers. With them sat their brother the High King, his tunic as deeply blue as his eyes and his hair as golden as the sunlight. He was all splendor and majesty, as magnificent as Cair Paravel itself, but neither he nor the Queens held Demeter's gaze.

Instead she turned her eyes to the dark, lanky figure who stood at the High King's shoulder. In his black tunic and a silver crown, the Just King was cool and aloof, a sharp contrast to the golden warmth of his brother and sisters. Demeter had been told it was he who would pronounce sentence on all present that day. He was young, it was true. All of them were. But there was an air about him, something that told of wisdom and discernment forged by hard experience, and in his dark eyes she saw, as she had before, the penetrating gaze of the Great Lion of her dreams. It was his sacred duty to dispense justice without partiality to all Narnians. What had he decided for her?

The Faun Tumnus tapped a heavy staff on the marble floor. The low voices of those present faded into silence as King Edmund came forward.

"General Oreius, bring forward those who have come to answer for their part in Zenon's rebellion."

Oreius signaled to the Collies who brought forward all the little Animals who had come with them from the West. King Edmund looked at them for a long moment, studying them until they began shuffling on their hooves and paws and looking down at the floor.

"All of you," he said at last. "You have, in your ignorance of us and of the Great Lion Himself, allowed yourselves to be deceived. We realize you did not yourselves shed the blood of those who died, but that blood stains you nonetheless. You might have prevented so much wrong had you learned to know Aslan as He truly is and had you sought the truth about those He had given rule of this kingdom."

Apart from the sniffles of a pair of young Rabbits, there was utter silence.

"But do not fear," the Just King said, his stern expression softening. "Here is your sentence. For the next year, you must all stay here, within one mile of Cair Paravel, and live and work with the other Animals who make this their home. You must learn for yourselves about us and about Aslan so that, should another deceiver come to you, you will know at once that he is false. Will each of you pledge in the name of the Great Lion that you will do this?"

"We will!" the little voices piped. "We will! We will!"

King Edmund nodded gravely and then turned to his brother. "High King, you have heard their oaths."

"As have our noble Queens," the High King replied, "and we shall hold those oaths sacred before Aslan and before His great Father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Go now, and be wiser than you have been."

Bowing and murmuring their thanks, the little Animals backed away and the Collies herded them out of the throne room.

"General Oreius?" King Edmund prompted when there was silence again, and Oreius signaled two of his Centaur Captains.

Demeter's heart beat a little faster, a little more wildly, as she moved forward with the remnant of Zenon's herd. Now she would know. She glanced over at Oreius, but his eyes were fixed on his Sovereigns and he did not look at her. Truly, she was alone. No, not alone, thank Aslan, she was not alone, and she could trust in Him.

"You Centaurs," King Edmund said, his voice low and stern. "Of all of Zenon's followers, you have done the most evil. Of all our subjects, you should have known Aslan's ways the best. You should have seen the truth in His stars and heard it from His Prophets. Your should have known it in your hearts. Your wrong is far greater than that of the Animals who were deceived. The blood of those who were murdered stains your hands. You knew Aslan's ways, and yet you convinced yourselves that He had somehow changed and commanded things that were contrary to everything He had proved He was."

Shame colored the faces of the once-proud warriors assembled there. Demeter was not the only one who could not meet the Just King's piercing gaze. But once again that gaze softened.

"But one thing He has always proved Himself to be is merciful. You have all come here because you have repented of what you did. Because you wish to be forgiven. Because you want to start afresh. My brother and sisters and I have spoken some while with General Oreius regarding your punishment, and we have decided it would be best if each of you was made part of one of our local herds so you might by their example be reminded of the great honor and responsibility laid upon you by Aslan Himself. Show us you are truly the noble creatures He made you to be, and your wrongs will no longer be remembered."

"You have our pledge," said Leander, the oldest Stallion remaining. "I bind myself and my herd to do as you have said."

King Edmund turned to his brother once more. "High King, you have heard their oaths."

"As have our noble Queens," came the High King's grave answer, "and we shall hold that oath sacred before Aslan and before His great Father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea."

Demeter released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. This was not so terrible a punishment. Zenon had always kept her and his herd separate from any others. It would be good to meet more of her own kind. To perhaps, one day, feel she was part of a family, even if it was a makeshift one. To be reminded of Aslan's ways and not stray from them.

She bowed with the rest of her herd, expecting to be dismissed, but King Edmund held up one hand.

"Before you go, there is more I would say. Aurelius, come forward."

Leander stepped back, and the fair-haired Centaur moved into his place at the front of the herd and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty."

"Despite the wrongs you have done, Aurelius," King Edmund said, "you have also done great good. We have no doubt the High King would not have survived his injuries or the battle if you had not done all you were able, even to taking mortal hurt, to protect him and the Lady Linnet."

The High King nodded. "We will not forget what you have done, Aurelius, and release you from the oath binding your herd. You are free, with our thanks, to go where and when you please."

Aurelius bowed even more deeply. "I did only what I could, High King, and it was little enough to right the wrongs I had already done. But, if I might, I would ask a boon of Your Majesty."

"If I am able to grant it," King Peter said, "it is yours."

"I have spoken at length with General Oreius. If you will allow it, I would be pleased to become one of your soldiers. Perhaps by my service, I can prove my loyalty to my Sovereigns and to the Great Lion Himself."

"We would do well, My King," Oreius said, "to have warriors as skilled and brave as this one in our ranks."

The High King smiled. "There is no one whose opinion I trust more, General. See that it is done."

"At once, My King."

Aurelius bowed for a third time and then moved back into the herd.

Again Demeter thought they would be dismissed, but then she realized the Just King's dark eyes were fixed on her. Despite the mercy Aurelius and the herd had been shown, despite the kindness she had found here already, she could not help trembling. She had been singled out. Was there a particular penalty she must pay for her association with Zenon?

"Lady Demeter," King Edmund said. "Come forward."

She lowered her head and moved forward, away from her herd. Alone. _Trust in Me. _At the gentle whisper in her heart, she lifted her head. There was nothing but kindness in the royal eyes that looked upon her.

"Lady Demeter, we owe you much. All of us. For your courage and loyalty, for your devotion to Aslan and His truth, we thank you, and we release you to go where and when you will, with our thanks."

"Oh, but do stay with us," the Valiant Queen said, her blue eyes shining as she clasped her hands together. "At least until your foal is born."

The Gentle Queen smiled, too. "We would be very pleased for you to live here in the Cair. There are several of our healers who are Centauresses. They can look after you when your time comes."

Demeter blinked back tears. "Your Majesties, surely I cannot–"

"Lady Demeter." The High King stood and came down the marble steps to stand before her. "It would please us very much if you would." There was a sudden, irresistible persuasiveness in his eyes and a glint of humor as well. "And my lady will never forgive me if you don't."

Her lashes fell to her suddenly warm cheeks, but she nodded, too. "If it pleases you, High King. I thank you with all my heart."

He took her hand and touched it to his lips as if she were a fine lady of his court. "General Oreius, see the Lady Demeter is taken care of."

"At once, My King."

"The rest of you go now," the High King said, again all majesty and splendor, "and be wiser than you have been."

Then the court was dismissed, the Kings and Queens retired, the herd was escorted away and Demeter was left standing where she was, too astonished to move. _Trust in Me _the Great Lion had said, and He had provided for her and her foal in a far greater way than she could have hoped or imagined. Surely she had the favor of the Sovereigns. She would be cared for and provided for and her little one would be born in a royal palace. It was nothing short of a miracle.

"Lady Demeter?"

She started, realizing just then that she was not alone.

"General Oreius."

"If you will come with me, I will bring you to Lady Moonrose. She will see that you are made comfortable."

She was surprised by the disappointment she felt. "I thought– You've been so kind, General, I thought you–"

"Forgive me, Lady," he said, his expression as solemn and unreadable as always, "but there is business I must attend to. I may be gone for a few days. But Lady Moonrose will see you have everything you need. And if you lack anything, I am sure our Queens will be happy to see you have it as quickly as possible. Now, if you please . . . "

He escorted her out of the throne room and took her to Moonrose, a motherly middle-aged Centauress with gray-streaked hair and laugh lines that were comfortingly deep. Demeter knew at once she would like the older female, but she could not help looking wistfully at the General as he walked away. Truly there were honorable Centaurs in the world. Why could she have not met such a one instead of Zenon?

_Trust in Me_ she heard again, and she managed a faint smile. Aslan knew the plans He had for her. Even now, He knew each step her unborn foal would take. He had brought her here to a place of safety, a place of plenty, a place of kindness and mercy. She need not know more. She need only trust in Him and give thanks.

**Author's Note: Here's a double-long chapter to make up for me taking so long to post again. Please let me know what you think. We writers need to know our stories aren't being lost in the shuffle.**

**Many, many thanks to Lady Alambiel for proofing and brainstorming and all that wonderful stuff.**

**This is the end, by the way . . . unless you would like an epilogue. ;)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Epilogue

"What will you name your foal?" Queen Lucy asked as she twined daisies into Demeter's hair.

Demeter blinked, realizing she had almost dozed off there in the sunlit garden, her legs tucked under her as she listened to the Queens and their ladies chattering away.

"Now Lucy," Queen Susan scolded, but only playfully. "You know the baby won't come until Christmas. Lady Demeter has a very long time to make that decision."

Lady Linnet laughed merrily. "She's already asked me what Peter and I will name our firstborn, and we aren't even properly betrothed yet."

"You will be." Queen Lucy beamed at her. "If my silly brother will ever do something about it."

"Your silly brother," King Peter said, making her squeal as he sneaked up on her and hugged her from behind, "is going to do a proper job of it so a certain beautiful lady won't have any excuse to turn him down."

"He could have saved all of us a lot of trouble," King Edmund grumbled, coming up next to his brother, "if he had just asked her in the garden without a lot of falderal in the first place."

Lady Linnet reached up from where she sat to take the High King's hand. "It was a sweet and lovely thought, no matter how it turned out."

A throbbing ache seized Demeter's heart when she saw the look of deep love that passed between the young King and his lady. It was the love she had imagined she shared with Zenon, a love she would likely never find. _Trust in Me. _She managed a slight smile. Aslan would see she was cared for. Soon she would have her little one, and she was assured she would always be welcomed here at Cair Paravel. Was that not more and much more than she deserved? She would be happy for the soon-to-be pledged couple even if seeing their joy brought her pain. Surely that pain would lessen in time. Surely her wounds would not always be so raw.

The High King turned his golden smile on her. "How are you today, Lady Demeter? I hope our sisters are not drowning you in tea and gossip."

Queen Susan swatted his hand. "We are not gossiping."

"No," King Edmund drawled. "You're just talking about people."

Demeter hid a smile, still not quite over her shyness in the presence of the Kings and Queens and their courtiers, but feeling certain she soon would be. How could she help it when they were all so kind and welcoming? How Zenon had convinced so many that these four had any wickedness in them, she did not know.

"Any word from Oreius?" Queen Susan asked, and Demeter forced herself to look only mildly interested.

The High King shook his head. "Have you heard anything, Ed?"

"Nothing," King Edmund said. "He said he'd be back after two or three days, so I suppose he will."

"That's today or tomorrow," There was just a trace of a pout on Queen Lucy's face. "You should have made him tell you where he was going."

King Edmund lifted one dark brow. "Did you ever try to _make_ Oreius do anything?"

"He probably went to hunt down some pirates or something to kidnap Darreth and take him back to Terebinthia," King Peter offered, and Queen Lucy put her hands on her hips.

"And why would he do that?"

"So Peter and Edmund won't do it first," Queen Susan said with a giggle.

Queen Lucy glared at her brothers. "The two of you and Oreius are absurd. Darreth hasn't done anything but be my friend and yours. You're both ingrates."

"Aww, Lu. We like Darreth, he's a capital fellow and all that, but we're just–" King Peter glanced at his brother and then back at his sister. "We're just not ready to lose you."

"Lose me? What's that supposed to mean?" She glared at them and then gave the sunniest of laughs. "You great numpties. You don't have me already married off, do you?"

"No!" her brothers cried in unison.

"Well, don't even think of it. Besides, Darreth's not in the least interested in me that way, and Oreius is much too fussy. He's–"

"He's here! He's here!"

Chip peeped and swooped over their heads. Evidently the little Swallow, after having such a grand adventure with his Kings, had taken it upon himself to patrol the area and report back to them anything of importance.

"General Oreius is coming! He's coming to see you, Lady Demeter! He's coming to see you!"

Demeter blinked. "He wants to see me? Are you sure?"

The Swallow swooped over her. "He said so! He said so!"

Demeter scrambled to her hooves as the General strode through the archway that led from the courtyard to the garden and made a deep bow. "Your Majesties. Lady Linnet." He fixed his dark eyes on Demeter. "Forgive my interruption, Your Majesties, but I have with me someone who urgently wishes to speak to Lady Demeter."

Demeter could only look at him, bewildered. Who could possibly wish to speak to her now? She had nothing and no one. "I do not–"

From behind him stepped another Centaur, one as noble and majestic as she had remembered, as dark of hair and eye as she, though now that hair, still thick and flowing to his shoulders, was streaked with gray, and those eyes were shadowed with a deep sorrow she did not recall ever seeing there from before.

"Demeter." The Centaur held out his arms to her. "Daughter."

The Queens and the Lady Linnet were all looking at her, wide eyed and waiting. The Kings moved just slightly closer to her, their eyes wary, almost angry, waiting too for her response.

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she managed to hold them in as she made a slight bow. "Why have you come? I was told you never wished to see me again."

He gave her a bittersweet smile. "And I was told you were dead. I was told you were killed along with your poor dam and sister. Zenon even took me to the cave where he said the three of you were buried." Still his arms were open to her. "Please, daughter, forgive me. If I had known you were still alive, I would have searched the world over to find you."

"Oh, Da." She bolted into his embrace, clinging to him as the sobs and tears flooded out of her. "Da, I'm so sorry. I tried to save them. I tried."

"Shh," he murmured, kissing her temple and then holding her even closer. "It is not your fault. None of it is your fault. Oh, thank Aslan, He has brought you back to me. My sweet little filly. My Demeter."

He leaned his cheek against her hair, and she felt the warm wetness of his own tears against her skin. He had not renounced her after all. He had not blamed her for the deaths of her mother and sister. He had grieved her loss and now rejoiced at her return. Zenon had deceived them both, but Aslan– _I will restore to you in abundance that which was lost. Trust in Me._ She clung more tightly to her father. Da. Oh, Aslan.

With an unsteady laugh, her father turned her face up to him and kissed her forehead. Then, with his arms still around her, he turned his well-remembered smile on the Kings and Queens.

"Please forgive me my rudeness, Your Majesties." He made a courtly bow. "My name is Apollo. I am most honored to stand in the presence of Aslan's chosen."

"You are most welcome, Apollo," the High King said, smiling now. "We are deeply in your daughter's debt for all she has done, but no reward in our power could match what the Great Lion has done for you both. Still, if there is any favor we may grant either of you, you need only ask it."

"Thank you, Sire. I ask only to be allowed to take my daughter back to our herd where she belongs." Da tightened his arm around her. "Where she and her foal will be safe and loved."

Again the tears sprang to her eyes. "You– you know?"

He kissed her once more. "I always wished to be a grandsire and never thought it could be."

She hid her face in the crook of his neck. "Oh, Da, I want to go home," she whispered. "Take me home."

"You know you are free to go when you will, Lady Demeter," King Edmund said. "But you and your sire both are welcome to stay here and dine with us tonight and take your leave in the morning."

"Please stay," Queen Lucy said. "So we can give you a proper goodbye."

Queen Susan turned her gentle smile on their latest visitor. "We would be honored, Apollo, if you would stay tonight. Our brother speaks the truth when he tells you we owe your daughter much, and there is little we can do to show our gratitude. But I do not think you will find Cair Paravel inhospitable."

The great feast that night was anything but inhospitable, and the only tears Demeter shed before she slept were ones of joy. The next morning, she said goodbye to the Kings and Queens, to their courtiers and, with special thanks, to kind Lady Moonrose who had looked after her these past few days. But while her father made his own farewells and prepared for their journey home, she sought out the one she had not yet had the chance to thank.

OOOOO

Oreius stood at the top of the highest tower in Cair Paravel looking out westward, out toward the Archen River, just where it met the Great River below the Shuddering Woods. For a moment he thought he had imagined the gentle voice calling his name, but then he turned, keeping his face as grave and impassive as always.

"Lady Demeter." He bowed. "I understand you and your sire will be leaving at once."

She nodded, and somehow in the rosy dawn light, her dark eyes seemed brighter than he had ever seen them. Of course the wounds Zenon had inflicted upon her would not heal overnight. Even those last bruises were still faintly visible on her pale throat, and they would fade long before the invisible ones. But she had been restored to her sire and to her herd. She was going home. She would be safe and happy. Bless Aslan, it was all good.

"Yes," she said, suddenly shy. "I merely wished to thank you for all you have done. I truly believed what Zenon told me. That my sire did not want me."

Oreius's expression softened. "I knew that could not be so. I had heard much of Apollo of the Archen River, and it did not seem possible that he or any sire could blame you for what happened to your dam and your sister. I had to speak to him myself. And, when he heard you were alive, he could not get here quickly enough. You need never doubt his love for you, Lady. He will see you are well cared for and your little one as well."

She nodded. "My foal will be here soon enough and, I am certain, will keep me very busy. So if I am unable to return, I hope you will remember how grateful I am. For all you have done." She looked down, the color in her cheeks deepening. "For all you have shown me."

He smiled, faintly puzzled. "I do not know what you mean, Lady."

"You have shown me our Kings and Queens are kind as well as just and merciful. You have shown me that my past is not my future, and that I need not be bound by the lies I have been told. You have shown me that not everyone is like Zenon and that there are yet Centaurs who are true to their honor and to Aslan." She took his hand, squeezing it briefly. "I will never forget."

"And I will not forget that you saved my Kings and, truly, all of Narnia. I will not forget your courage or your sacrifice for Aslan's sake and for the truth." He brought her hand to his lips and then released it. "I pray the Great Lion will hold you and your little one between His paws and pour His blessings upon you. And one day, if it is His will, perhaps you will come again to Cair Paravel."

"I would like to see it in the spring." Her mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the corners. "Everything is new in the spring."

OOOOO

Peter scanned the area. "Everything is secure, General?"

Oreius nodded. "Soldiers are posted at fifteen-foot intervals around the perimeter and one squadron of Eagles, two of Hawks and a pair of Gryphons will be circling above, just as you ordered."

"What can we do, King Peter?" Remus asked, yellow eyes bright and tail wagging furiously.

Peter patted his head. "You and your brother can go look after Edmund."

Romulus huffed. "But he told us to help Oreius. He's reading a book and says he likes it better if he has quiet. We were quiet, weren't we, Remus?"

The other Wolf nodded. "We just asked him what book it was."

"And what it was about."

"And if he liked it."

"And when he was going to be through."

"And why we couldn't go look for spies in the garden."

"And–"

Peter cleared his throat. "I see. Well, maybe you'd better go see what Lucy's doing. She might need to be guarded, too, you know."

Remus gave a startled little yip. "We'd better hurry!"

The Wolves bolted into the castle under Bast's disdainful gaze. "Where do you want us, Sire?"

"You and Babur stay here at the gate. Nobody, and I mean nobody, comes in. Not my sisters and especially not my brother, am I clear?"

The Tigress bowed. "Perfectly, My King. It shall be as you say."

"Do you have everything?" Babur asked, obviously fighting a smirk. "I mean, if the thing is to be done properly . . . "

"Yes, yes," Peter growled. "And don't be so loud. She'll hear you."

The Tiger smirked openly now and posted himself next to his sister just outside the open gate.

Peter looked up at Oreius, trying his best to look cool and confident. "Have I forgotten anything?"

The General put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Remember who you are, and do not let fear turn you from your purpose."

Peter stood as straight as he could manage and put back his shoulders. "I am ready."

"The Lion be with you, My King."

The Centaur gave him what he was certain was meant to be an encouraging little push, but it nearly set him off his feet. It was rather comforting all the same. He picked up the three boxes he had brought with him and, seeing Oreius was gone and the gate now closed, he strode towards the back of the garden.

Linnet and Ada were sitting in the rose bower, both of them sewing. Peter caught Ada's attention and gave her the signal they had agreed upon. At once, the waiting woman got to her feet.

"Oh, pardon me, lamb, but I have left the crimson thread inside. I cannot work these flowers without it. I won't be a minute."

Before Linnet could speak even a word, Ada was gone. Peter stayed for a moment where he was, out of Linnet's sight, and then he came to stand before her.

"Good afternoon, My Lady."

She started and then smiled, her cheeks as softly pink as the roses. "Peter. I thought you were in council this afternoon."

"I have been." He sat beside her, setting the boxes down next to him on the marble bench. "And I have been given some excellent strategic advice."

"Have you now?"

"Oh, yes. But I haven't come to talk about that." He presented to her the first of the boxes, a long slender one made of ornately carved wood. "First, I wanted to fulfil my promise to you."

"Is it what I think it is?" she asked eagerly.

"There is only one way to find out."

She opened the lid and then beamed at him. "Oh, Peter, it's lovely. It's wonderful."

In the box, padded with rich white velvet, was a new ciaramella, the one he had commissioned to replace the one that had been destroyed last fall. She ran her delicate fingers over the glossy wood and the gold and pearl fittings, her gray eyes alight.

"I have missed your beautiful music, My Lady. I will be glad to hear it again."

"Thank you, My Lord." She set the ciaramella on the bench next to her and squeezed his hand. "I shall play and play and play. How I have missed it."

He brought her hand to his lips. "You know you first enchanted me with your playing, love. An enchantment that can never be broken."

"I will always play for you, Peter," she murmured, pressing her cheek against their still-clasped hands. "Always."

He sat there for a silent moment, desperate to tell her everything he was thinking and feeling, knowing she would think him foolish or bumbling or quite, quite mad if he did. Then he licked his dry lips and reminded himself of what he had planned to say.

"Second, My Lady, I wanted to give you something as rare and beautiful as your lovely self. I had several of my councilors as well as my brother, who isn't quite as useless as you might expect, search the Cair's great library to see what they could suggest. But in the end one of the Storm Petrels told me I should give you these."

He handed her the second box, this one larger than the first and far less ornate. Looking at him questioningly, she lifted the lid and then caught her breath. Inside was a sheaf of flowers unlike any others that grew in Narnia or Archenland or even Calormen. They were translucent, almost clear, the petals like dewdrops strung together, but the colors were the colors of the sea, pale aquas, greens and blues and even purples, and the bouquet shimmered like the distant waves.

"What are they?" she breathed.

"They are called Mermaid's Tears. They come from far out across the water, from a tiny island only the Seabirds know. I had only heard of them before now, but the Merfolk were kind enough to bring me some for this very special occasion."

She smiled, but her lips trembled. "Special occasion, My Lord?"

He took the large box from her lap and set it on the ground. Then he picked up the very last one, a little golden box not even the size of his fist, and dropped to one knee before her.

"My Lady–" He cleared his throat, feeling the blood rushing to his face and knowing he looked all kinds of fool. "Lady Linnet, I–"

She nodded encouragingly, tears standing in her sweet eyes.

"Oh, Linnet," he breathed, all his fine words evaporating like mist on a sunny morning. "I've been trying for just ages to ask you to marry me. I tried to make a proper job of it this time with presents and flowers and in the middle of a garden, but I've forgotten my speech, so I suppose it won't count either. Couldn't you say yes all the same?"

He opened the little golden box and took out a ring of pearl and gold crowned by a small, gleaming ruby in the shape of a heart. He had commissioned it months ago from the most skilled of the Dwarfs. They had offered to make him something much grander and more costly, but he had requested this one. It was one of the few memories left to him of that Other Place, of the ring his father had given his mother so long ago.

She held out her left hand, her tears finally spilling over as she nodded. "Yes, My Lord, I will be most honored and most blessed to be your wife." She caressed his cheek as he slipped the ring on her finger. "And no take backs."

"Linnet," he breathed, and standing, he pulled her into his arms, sealing the pledge with a passionate kiss.

"About bloody time, too."

They sprang apart at the words. Peter heard the dull thud of a heavy book being slammed shut and a rustling in the bushes behind them. Then a mop of black hair popped into sight.

"Edmund!" Peter sputtered.

Linnet turned a deep crimson. "My Lord, we were not aware of your presence."

Edmund scowled at them. "Well, I didn't know this great booby was going to propose right here and right now. I was just trying to read my book without a million interruptions." Abruptly, he snickered. "I'm glad it's finally official though. Now Susan can drive you both mad with wedding plans."

Peter grinned and slipped his arm around Linnet, pulling her close to his side. "She won't have much time for that. We're going to get married right away. Before something else interrupts." He smiled into Linnet's eyes. "Right, love?"

She bit her lip, though she was smiling, too. "It would be a dreadful scandal if we were betrothed even a day less than a full year, My Lord."

"Ah, but that's in Archenland. Here in Narnia we think, uh, let me see, we met eight months ago? In Narnia, eight months is the traditional length of time, isn't it, Ed?"

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Whatever the High King commands. But you know eight months is still long enough for Susan to drive you mad."

"No, no," Peter insisted. "She won't have any time at all. The time starts from when the bride and groom first meet, don't you remember?"

Linnet's eyes were round. "You really do mean now."

Peter laughed and wrapped her in his arms. Now or a year from now, she was going to be his wife, and no take backs.

Edmund snorted. "This time Susan really is going to kill you."

**Author's Note: Okay, this really is the end. I'd love to know what you think, and if you'd like more of Peter and Linnet's story and everyone else's. Many thanks to Lady Alambiel for all her pre-reading and brainstorming and general help-ness.**


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